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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

FROM  THE  UBRARY  OF 

Archibald  HenderBon 


.\(vAV/" 


K^UI^ 


;■* 


This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


Form  No.  471 


AMERICA  FIRST 


"With  long  paddles  and  strong  arms,  the  Indians  forced  their 
craft  along  the  river". 

— Building  a  Canoe, 


AMERICA  MST 


one  hundred  stories 

frqMl  our 

own  history 


LA^TON  D.EVANS 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

^ilLO  WINTER 


MILTON    BRADLEY  COMPANY 
SPRINGFIELD    =     MASSACHUSETTS 

1920 


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COPYRIGHT,  ig2  0,  BY 
MILTON  BRADLEY  COMPANY,  SPRINGFIELD,   MASS. 


AU  rights  reserved 


Bradley;  Qialit}?  Boobs 

yir  Children 


When  children  advance  beyond  the  nursery  age, 
no  story  is  so  wonderful  as  a  true  story.  Fiction 
to  them  is  never  as  appealing  as  fact.  I  have 
often  been  faced  with  the  inquiry:  whether  or  not 
a  story  is  a  true  one.  The  look  of  gratification, 
when  told  that  "it  actually  happened,"  was  most 
satisfying  to  me  as  a  story-teller. 

The  nearer  a  story  is  to  the  Ufe  and  traditions 
of  the  child,  the  more  eagerly  it  is  attended.  True 
stories  about  our  own  people,  about  our  neighbors 
and  friends,  and  about  our  own  country  at  large, 
are  more  interesting  than  true  stories  of  remote 
places  and  people.  We  naturally  are  interested  in 
our  own  affairs,  and  the  nearer  they  are  to  us  the 
greater  the  interest  we  feel. 

That  history  is  just  a  long,  thrilling  story  of  the 
trials  and  triumphs  of  pioneers  and  patriots  is  well 
known  to  those  who  have  had  to  do  with  the 
teaching  of  history  to  youthful  minds.  That  the 
dry  recital   of  poUtical  and  governmental  history 


^ 


m 


iv  INTRODUCTION 


does  not  interest  children  is  also  well  known.  His- 
tory should  be  made  vital,  vibrant,  and  personal 
if  we  expect  children  to  be  stirred  by  its  study. 

To  gratify  the  love  of  children  for  the  dramatic 
and  picturesque,  to  satisfy  them  with  stories  that 
are  true,  and  to  make  them  famiHar  with  the 
great  characters  in  the  history  of  their  own  coun- 
try, is  the  purpose  of  this  volume. 

It  is  hoped  that  through  appeal  to  youthful  love 
of  adventure,  this  collection  of  stories,  covering 
the  entire  range  of  American  history,  will  stimu- 
late the  ambition  and  strengthen  the  patriotism  of 
those  young  citizens  whose  education  has  been  the 
constant  concern  of  the  author  for  many  years. 

Lawton  B.  Evans 

Augusta,  Ga. 


(Jq^teats 


FAGS 

1.  Leif,  the  Lucky. 1 

2.  How  THE  Spaniards  Conquered  Mexico 3 

3.  The  Conquest  of  Peru 10 

4.  The  Fountain  of  Youth 15 

5.  De  Soto  Discovers  the  Mississippi 18 

6.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 23- 

7.  The  Lost  Colony  of  Roanoke 27- 

8.  Some  Adventures  of  John  Smith 32 

9.  More  Adventures  of  John  Smith 35 

10.  Persecutions  of  the  Pilgrims  and  Puritans 40 

11.  The  Adventures  of  Miles  Standish 45 

12.  Building  a  Canoe      51 

13.  The  Flight  of  Roger  Williaais 54 

14.  Old  Silver  Leg 58 

15.  William  Penn  and  the  Quakers      . 63 

16.  The  Charter  Oak 67 

17.  Bloody  Marsh 72 

18.  The  Saving  of  Hadley 76 

19.  Sir  William  Phips,  and  the  Treasltie  Ship 81 

20.  Hannah  Dustin 87 

21.  Israel  Putnam  Captures  the  Wolf 91 

22.  A  Young  Surveyor 94 

23.  The  Adventures  of  Young  Washington 99 

24.  How  the  Indians  Treated  Major  Putnam 104 

25.  How  Detroit  was  Saved 109 

26.  The  Story  of  Acadl-^. 112 

27.  Blackbeard,  the  Pirate      118 

28.  The  Adventures  of  Daniel  Boone 121 

29.  Sunday  in  the  Colonies 125 

30.  The  Salem  Witches 129 

V 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

31.  TiLWELIXG  BY  Stage-coach      134 

32.  King  George  and  the  Colonies 139 

33.  Patrick  Henry  and  the  Parson's  Cause      144 

34.  Paul  Revere's  Ride 149 

35.  The  Green  Mountain  Boys 154 

36.  The  Father  of  His  Country 157 

37.  Natilan  Hale 161 

38.  The  Bravery  of  Elizabeth  Zane 165 

39.  Capturing  the  Hessians 169 

40.  How  Lafayette  Ca:^ie  to  America 172 

41.  The  Patriotism  of  Lydia  Darrah 177 

42.  Captain  Molly  Pitcher 181 

43.  ]\L\RioN,  THE  SwAiviP  Fox 184 

44.  Ourw^TTiN-G  A  Tory 188 

45.  Supporting  the  Colors 192 

46.  Nancy  H^art,  the  War  Wom.an^  of  Georgia 196 

47.  JVLa-D  Anthony  Captures  Stony  Point 200 

48.  The  Execution  of  Major  Andre 206 

49.  How  General  Schuyler  was  Saved 208 

50.  An  Indlan  Trick  that  Failed 212 

51.  How  THE  Northwest  was  Won 216 

52.  Benj-^min  Filantllin 221 

53.  NoLicHUCKY  Jack 226 

54.  Eli  Whitney  Invents  the  Cotton-gin 232 

55.  Thomas  Jefferson 236 

56.  The  Burning  of  the  Philadelphia 240 

57.  The  Expedition  of  Lewis  and  Clark 244 

58.  Colter's  Race  for  Life 251 

59.  Pike  Explores  the  Arkansas  Valley 255 

60.  How  the  Pumpkins  Saved  the  Family 260 

61.  Old  Ironsides     2Q5 

62.  Tecumseh 270 

63.  The  Star-Spangled  Banner 274 

64.  Traveling  by  the  Canal 278 

65.  Lafayette's  Return  to  America      282 

66.  OscEOL.\,  THE  Seminole  Chief 286 

67.  An  Early  Journey  by  Railroad 291 

68.  Old  Hickory 294 

69.  Daniel  Webster 299 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

70.  Henry  Clay 303 

71.  Christmas  on  the  Plantation 308 

72.  John  C  Calhoun 313 

73.  The  Heroes  of  the  Alaaio       317 

74.  Sam  Houston  Wins  Freedom  for  Texas 321 

75.  The  Invention  of  the  Electric  Telegraph      ....  325 

76.  The  Discovery  of  Gold  in  California       330 

77.  Crossing  the  Continent 335 

78.  The  Pony  Express 339 

79.  The  Boy  who  Saved  a  Village 344 

80.  The  Rescue  of  Jerry 349 

81.  Abraham  Lincoln 354 

82.  Robert  E.  Lee 359 

83.  Stonewall  Jackson 365 

84.  Stealing  a  Locomotive 369 

85.  Sam  Davis 374 

86.  An  Escape  from  Prison 379 

87.  Running  the  Blockade      383 

88.  Through  the  Heart  of  the  South 388 

89.  The  Surrender  of  General  Lee 391 

90.  Laying  the  Atlantic  Cable 396 

91.  The  Story  of  the  Telephone 401 

92.  Thomas  A.  Edison,  the  Great  Inventor 405 

93.  Clara  Barton  and  the  Red  Cross 409 

94.  HOBSON   AND   THE   MeRRIMAC 414 

95.  Dewey  at  Manila  Bay 417 

96.  Conquering  the  Yellow  Fever 423 

97.  The  Sinking  of  the  Lusitania 428 

98.  The  Last  Race  of  Private  Trepton 433 

99.  Frank  Luke,  Jr.,  Aviator 437 

100.  The  Exploits  of  Sergeant  York 442 


/ 


LEIF,  THE  LUCKY 

Leif  was  a  bold  Norseman,  and  was  called 
*'Lucky"  because  he  came  safely  through  so  many 
dangers.  He  was  the  bravest  seaman  of  his  race, 
and  the  sailors  believed  that  whatever  boat  carried 
him  would  come  safely  into  port,  no  matter  how 
fierce  the  storm. 

When  voyagers  from  the  far  seas  brought  word 
to  Iceland  that  fair  lands  covered  with  forests  lay 
to  the  west,  for  they  had  seen  them,  Leif  the 
Lucky  called  for  thirty-five  strong  and  true  men. 
''Let  us  sail  to  this  country,  and  get  wood  for  our 
ships,  and  perhaps  gold  and  silver  to  sell  to  the 
kings  of  Europe,"  he  said.  The  men  came  for- 
ward and  the  ship  set  sail  in  the  summer. 

They  went  by  way  of  Greenland,  where  they 
stopped  for  more  news  of  the  strange  lands,  and 
then  sailed  southwest  for  many  days.  The  first 
place  they  saw  was  a  land  of  ice  and  mountains. 
This  was  probably  Newfoundland.  Then  they 
reached  a  level  country  covered  with  trees.     This 


A^IERICA  FIRST 


was  probably  Nova  Scotia.  Still  sailing  onward, 
the  little  ships  with  their  brave  crew^s  came  to  a 
beautiful  country  abounding  in  trees,  grass,  and 
flowers.  Here  they  landed,  and  carried  all  their 
baggage  ashore  with  them.  The  place  was  so  beau- 
tiful, they  resolved  to  spend  the  winter  there,  and 
at  once  set  about  building  houses.  This  was  prob- 
ably somewhere  in  Rhode  Island. 

^Mien  the  Norsemen  had  built  their  houses,  Leif 
said  to  his  men,  "Let  us  explore  the  land;  some 
of  us  wdll  stay  to  guard  the  houses,  and  the  rest 
will  find  out  what  there  is  to  see."  So  they  set 
forth  into  the  interior. 

Soon  they  came  upon  an  abundance  of  grape- 
vines hanging  from  trees  and  covered  with  lus- 
cious fruit.  Leif  was  delighted,  and  at  once  named 
the  country  Vinland,  or  the  Land  of  Vines.  So 
they  gathered  grapes,  and  cut  wood  for  their 
ships,  and  built  more  houses,  and  settled  down  to 
spend  the  winter  in  this  delightful  spot.  The  cold 
came  on,  but  the  Norsemen  did  not  mind  it,  for 
they  had  plenty  of  food  and  great  fires;  besides 
which,  they  were  accustomed  to  cold  weather. 

In  the  spring  they  loaded  their  ships  with  tim- 
ber, and  sailed  for  home.  Here  they  narrated  their 
marvelous  story  of  the  new  land.  Leif  offered  his 
ship   to   his   brother,   Thorwald,   and   told   him   he 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


might  go  and  spend  a  winter  in  Vinland.  So 
Thorwald  fitted  himself  out  and  started  for  the 
new  country,  but  he  was  not  as  lucky  as  his 
brother.  He  found  the  homes  that  had  been  built 
by  those  who  had  been  before  him;  but  the  In- 
dians attacked  his  party  one  night,  and  killed 
Thorwald  with  a  poisoned  arrow.  He  was  buried 
on  the  shore,  and  his  men  set  sail  for  home  as 
soon  as  the  weather  allowed  them  to  leave. 

About  eight  hundred  years  after  this,  a  skeleton 
clothed  in  armor  was  found  buried  in  the  earth  at 
the  head  of  Narragansett  Bay.  No  one  knew  who 
it  was;  but  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that 
it  was  the  remains  of  the  brave  old  Norse  warrior, 
Thorwald,  or,  maybe,  of  one  of  his  followers.  At 
any  rate,  the  Skeleton  in  Armor  has  been  the  sub- 
ject of  much  romance  and  poetry,  and  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Norsemen  have  been '  handed  down 
to  us  as  sagas  in  the  writing  of  the  seafaring 
Icelanders. 


HOW  THE  SPANIARDS   CONQUERED 
MEXICO 

The  one  thing  the  early  Spaniards  wanted  above 
all  else  was  gold.  For  it  they  were  willing  to 
abandon    their    homes    and    families    in    the    Old 


AMERICA  FIRST 


World,  undergo  all  kinds  of  hardships  and  suffer- 
ing, treat  the  Indians  with  great  cruelty,  and  often 
imperil  their  own  lives.  Thus  we  see  w^hat  men 
will  do  when  possessed  of  a  greed  for  wealth! 

In  Cuba  there  lived  a  Spanish  gentleman  named 
Hernando  Cortez.  He  was  the  son  of  wealthy 
parents,  and  he  had  studied  law.  But  when  nine- 
teen years  of  age,  he  had  run  away  from  home  to 
find  adventures  in  America.  He  possessed  wonder- 
ful courage  and  great  command  over  men;  but  by 
nature  he  was  very  cruel.  He  loved  gold,  as  all 
the  others  did  in  those  days,  but  he  loved  power 
and  adventure  as  much  as  he  did  wealth. 

Cortez  heard  stories  about  the  wonderful  wealth 
of  the  King  of  Mexico.  It  was  said  that  gold  was 
so  common  among  them  that  the  very  people  ate 
and  drank  from  golden  vessels.  The  King  was 
said  to  live  in  a  palace  so  covered  with  gold  that 
it  shone  like  the  sun,  while  he  and  all  his  attend- 
ants were  believed  to  wear  gold  embroidered 
clothes  every  day.  These  fabulous  stories  were 
told  by  the  natives,  and  the  Spaniards  were  wild 
with  excitement. 

Cortez  was  placed  at  the  head  of  an  expedition 
designed  to  conquer  Mexico,  and  with  him  were 
the  bravest  of  the  Spanish  captains  and  the  wildest 
adventurers    in    the    New    World.     Nothing    suited 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


Cortez  better  than  this  expedition,  and  with  hope 
he  and  his  men  set  forth. 

The  ruler  of  Mexico  was  the  proud  Montezuma. 
He  w^as  far  beyond  the  ordinary  Indian  in  his 
w^ays  and  manners.  He  hved  in  a  palace,  and 
fared  sumptuously  upon  the  dainties  of  his  land. 
Was  it  not  said  of  him  that  he  ate  fresh  fish, 
brought  every  day  from  the  coast  by  runners  who 
came  in  relays  over  two  hundred  miles?  Around 
him  was  every  kind  of  comfort  and  luxury,  and 
Mexico,  the  capital  city,  showed  many  evidences  of 
a  high  civilization. 

When  Cortez  landed  at  Vera  Cruz,  Indian  run- 
ners carried  swift  word  of  the  stranger  to  Monte- 
zuma, as  he  sat  on  his  throne  in  Mexico  City. 
The  King  turned  pale  as  he  heard  of  the  white 
men,  riding  strange  animals,  killing  their  enemies 
with  the  aid  of  weapons  that  gave  out  smoke  and 
made  noises  like  many  thunders.  He  cried  in  dis- 
may, "They  are  the  children  of  the  sun,  who,  ac- 
cording to  the  traditions  of  my  country,  have  come 
to  take  away  my  throne.  Alas!  woe  is  me,  and 
woe  is  Mexico!"  And  the  brave  Indian  monarch 
shed  tears  of  distress. 

The  runners  were  sent  back  to  Cortez,  bearing 
presents  of  gold,  jewels,  and  rich  cloth,  and  beg- 
ging him   to   begone   with  his    men  and   leave  the 


AIMERICA  FIRST 


country  in  peace.  When  Cortez  saw  the  gifts,  his 
eyes  blazed  with  greed,  and  he  said,  "Go  tell  your 
Montezuma  we  will  visit  him  in  his  palace,  even 
if  we  have  to  force  our  way.  Tell  him  also  that 
we  have  a  disease  of  the  heart;  it  will  take  much 
gold  to  cure  us!" 

The  King  heard  this  message  with  dismay,  for 
he  did  not  understand  why  men  should  want  gold. 
They  could  not  eat  or  wear  it,  and  he  feared  their 
coming  to  his  beautiful  capital. 

Cortez  burned  his  ships,  so  that  his  men  could 
not  think  of  retreat,  and  then  set  out  on  his  march 
to  Mexico  City.  The  terrified  natives  fled  before 
him  at  the  sight  of  his  horses,  and  at  the  sound 
of  his  cannon  and  guns.  The  roads  over  the 
mountains  were  smooth,  with  here  and  there  a  stone 
house  built  nearby  for  the  convenience  of  traders. 

At  last  Cortez  and  his  adventurers  came  to  a 
point  where  they  could  look  down  over  the  city 
of  Mexico.  Great  white  stone  buildings,  were  seen 
on  an  island  in  the  middle  of  a  lake,  connected 
with  the  mainland  by  means  of  bridges.  The 
temples  and  palaces  were  reflected  in  the  clear 
water,  and  the  whole  scene  was  peaceful  and 
beautiful.  "The  Land  of  Gold!  The  City  of 
Plenty!"  exclaimed  Cortez,  and  he  rested  awhile 
before  preparing  for  his  triumphal  entry. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


]\Ionteziima  sat  in  his  palace  with  his  attend- 
ants around  him.  ''The  strangers  are  in  the 
mountains,"  announced  his  chief  warrior.  ''Shall 
I  drive  them  away,  or  let  them  enter?"  Monte- 
zuma thought  awhile,  and  replied,  "It  will  be  of 
no  avail  to  try  and  drive  them  away.  Let  them 
enter  the  city." 

Cortez,  on  a  fine  horse  and  covered  with  all  the 
trappings  of  war,  attended  by  his  captains  and 
men,  rode  into  the  city.  Montezuma  was  car- 
ried to  meet  him  in  a  chair  beneath  a  canopy  of 
feathers.  His  mantle  was  decorated  with  gold  and 
precious  stones,  and  his  bearers  brought  with  them 
great  quantities  of  food  and  rich  gifts  for  the 
strangers.  Alas  for  poor  Montezuma!  If  he 
thought  that  was  the  way  to  get  rid  of  the  cruel 
and  greedy  Spaniard,  he  was  much  mistaken! 

Cortez  was  given  the  freedom  of  the  city.  He 
went  everywhere,  observing  the  means  of  defense 
and  the  provisions  of  warfare.  He  visited  the 
temples  and  saw  the  priests  offering  up  human 
lives  to  the  heathen  gods.  He  resolved  to  force 
these  people  to  adopt  the  Christian  religion,  and 
to  abandon  their  heathen  rites.  He  was  very  ar- 
rogant, and  made  the  Mexicans  give  him  every- 
thing he  demanded. 

So  matters  went  on  for  several  weeks,  until  the 


A]MERICA  FIRST 


Mexicans  showed  plainly  that  they  wanted  the 
Spaniards  to  leave.  But  the  Spaniards  wanted 
more  and  more  gold,  and  Cortez  became  anxious, 
for  the  natives  were  growing  tired  and  unfriendly. 
He  felt  that  he  was  walking  over  a  volcano  that 
might  blow  up  at  any  minute.  A  Mexican  slew 
one  of  his  soldiers.  This  proved  to  Montezuma's 
subjects  that  the  white  man  could  be  killed.  Cor- 
tez demanded  that  the  murderer  be  turned  over 
to  him  for  punishment,  and,  when  this  was  done, 
the  Spaniards  burned  him  alive  in  the  public 
square.  The  Mexicans  became  more  sullen  and 
dangerous. 

Cortez  had  only  two  hundred  men  with  him, 
and  around  him  were  thousands  of  Mexicans.  He 
and  his  men,  already  loaded  with  plunder  and  in 
fear  of  their  lives,  resolved  to  escape  with  what 
they  had.  It  would  mean  for  them  certain  de- 
struction if  the  Mexicans  once  began  hostilities. 
Montezuma,  whom  Cortez  had  quite  terrified,  ad- 
vised him  to  go,  so  as  to  escape  the  wrath  of  the 
Mexican  people.  Just  about  this  time,  Alvarado, 
one  of  the  Spanish  captains,  witnessing  the  sacri- 
fice of  human  lives  at  a  Mexican  religious  festival, 
grew  so  indignant  that  he  ordered  his  men  to  fire 
their  cannon  into  the  group,  thereby  killing  some 
of  the  priests. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


This  brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  The  Spaniards 
must  now  indeed  leave,  and  leave  quickly.  So 
they  planned  to  go  by  night.  But  as  they  de- 
parted over  the  bridge  that  connected  the  city 
with  the  mainland,  the  Mexicans  discovered  them, 
and  began  a  merciless  attack  upon  them.  They 
swarmed  forth  by  the  thousands,  cutting  away 
portions  of  the  bridge,  hurling  stones  and  arrows, 
and  rushing  upon  the  Spaniards  with  their  spears. 
Cortez  lost  many  men  before  he  could  withdraw. 
The  greedy  Spanish  soldiers  would  not  follow  his 
advice  to  drop  their  packs  of  gold  as  they  fled. 
They  clung  to  their  plunder  to  the  very  last,  and, 
in  consequence,  many  were  killed  who  might  have 
escaped.  In  Spanish  histories  this  is  known  as 
"the  sorrowful  night." 

It  took  a  whole  year  for  Cortez  to  get  enough 
men  from  Cuba  and  Spain  to  march  again  upon 
Mexico.  In  the  meantime  Montezuma  had  been 
slain  by.  his  own  people,  and  Guatemazin  reigned 
in  his  stead.  This  time  the  siege  lasted  three 
months,  and  thousands  of  the  Mexicans  were  slain 
before  the  proud  city  gave  way,  and  the  conquest 
of  Mexico  was  complete.  Cortez  had  at  last 
broken  the  heart  of  the  ancient  race,  and  from 
that  time  on  Mexico  was  in  possession  of  the 
Spanish  conquerors. 


10  .VMERICA   FIRST 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  PERU 

Francisco  Pizarro  was  a  Spaniard  of  low  birth, 
and  was  so  ignorant  that  never  in  all  his  hfe  did 
he  learn  to  read  and  write.  His  parents  w^ere  very 
poor,  and  his  wicked  mother  deserted  him  when 
he  was  a  child.  He  would  have  died  if  he  had 
not  been  nursed  by  an  old  sow. 

TVTien  Pizarro  became  old  enough  to  w^ork,  he 
took  up  the  occupation  of  a  swineherd,  feeding 
and  tending  pigs.  He  became  very  rough  and 
lawless,  but  like  all  other  Spaniards  of  the  day, 
w^as  eager  for  conquest  in  America.  So  he  ran 
away  from  his  master,  and  shipped  in  a  vessel 
bound  for  the  West  Indies.  Here  he  met  Vasco 
Nunez  de  Balboa,  and  was  one  of  the  party  that 
went  with  this  explorer  when  he  beheld  the  waters 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  He  heard  a  great  deal  about 
a  land  to  the  south,  abounding  in  gold  and  silver. 

Of  course  Pizarro  wanted  to  conquer  this  land, 
just  as  Cortez  had  conquered  Mexico.  With  a 
small  party  of  men  and  some  horses,  he  started 
out  in  one  ship  to  explore  the  west  coast  of  South 
America,  where  the  Peruvians  lived.  As  he  went 
down  the  coast  he  saw  signs  of  villages  here  and 
there,    and    some    large    towns    with    houses    and 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  n 


streets.      The    people    he    noticed    wore    clothing, 
and  appeared  to  have  plenty  of  gold  ornaments. 

At  one  place  a  party  of  fifty  of  his  men  landed 
with  their  horses  and  began  a  march  into  the  in- 
terior. The  Peruvians  came  against  them  by  the 
thousands,  but  the  Spaniards  fired  off  their  guns 
and  dismounted  their  horses.  The  strange  noise 
of  armor,  and  the  appearance  of  an  animal  that 
could  separate  itself  into  two  parts,  —  for  the 
natives  thought  the  horse  and  rider  were  one,  so 
terrified  the  savages  that  they  fled  in  dismay. 

Seeing  the  vast  numbers  of  people  in  this  new 
land,  and  also  its  limitless  riches  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver, Pizarro  decided  to  return  to  Spain  for  larger 
forces  and  more  supplies,  and  then  to  return  for 
the  complete  conquest  of  Peru.  So  he  made  his 
way  back  to  Spain  and  reported  to  his  King  what 
he  had  seen.  The  Spanish  monarch  told  Pizarro 
that  he  might  be  governor  of  all  the  land  he  sub- 
dued, and  in  addition  he  might  keep  half  the  gold 
he  found.  But  the  King  did  not  give  him  any 
money  with  which  to  buy  ships  and  supplies. 

Pizarro  was  not  daunted,  however,  by  this. 
After  a  few  months  he  found  enough  men  and 
borrowed  enough  money  to  start  afresh.  He 
landed  again  on  the  Peruvian  coast,  and  remained 
a  year  in  one  place,   awaiting  reinforcements  and 


12  AJVIERICA  FIRST 


supplies.  He  then  started  on  his  march  inland, 
to  meet  Atahualpa,  who  was  the  King  of  the 
country.  Atahualpa  sent  friendly  messages,  beau- 
tiful presents  of  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones, 
together  with  plentiful  provisions  for  the  Spaniards. 

Pizarro  marched  over  the  narrow  mountain 
passes  with  a  few  hundred  men,  w^hile  Atahualpa 
could  easily  have  gathered  fifty  thousand  soldiers 
to  overwhelm  him.  But  Pizarro's  men  were  fierce 
as  wolves,  while  the  Peruvians  were  as  timid  as 
sheep.  There  w^as  no  opposition  to  the  onward 
march  of  the  Spaniards.  At  last  they  came  to  a 
large  village,  which  had  been  abandoned  by  the 
inhabitants  and  left  for  the  use  of  the  Spaniards. 
In  this  village  Pizarro  quartered  his  men,  and 
made  himself  comfortable. 

He  was  now  w^ith  about  two  hundred  men  in 
the  heart  of  Peru,  a  thickly  settled  country  of 
thousands  of  Indians,  who  could  destroy  him  at 
any  time  they  saw  fit.  But  the  Indians  were  su- 
perstitious, timid,  and  not  warlike;  while  the 
Spaniards  had  horses  and  guns,  and  were  long 
accustomed  to  war. 

Pizarro  fortified  his  town  as  best  he  could,  and 
then  sent  his  own  brother,  with  forty  men,  to 
Atahualpa's  camp  to  ask  him  to  pay  the  Spaniards 
a  visit.     "Tell  the  Inca  that  he   must   come,   or 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  13 


else  I  shall  make  him.     I  will  take  a  few  horses 
and  my  men,  and  lay  waste  all  his  country." 

The  terrified  King  then  made  haste  to  visit  the 
Spanish  camp. 

Pizarro  waited  all  day  for  Atahualpa  to  appear. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  he  learned  that  the  King 
and  his  men  were  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
So  word  was  sent  him  that  supper  was  prepared 
and  that  it  would  be  kept  waiting  until  he  arrived. 
In  the  meantime,  Pizarro  made  ready  for  an  at- 
tack, inasmuch  as  he  feared  the  treachery  of  the 
Spaniards. 

Atahualpa  appeared,  borne  on  a  litter,  plated 
with  silver  and  gold,  and  adorned  with  feathers. 
With  him  were  five  thousand  soldiers,  carrying 
clubs,  shngs,  and  bags  of  stones.  The  cortege 
halted  in  the  great  square,  and  Pizarro  came  for- 
ward to  greet  his  guest.  After  an  exchange  of 
courtesies,  a  Spanish  priest  began  to  expound  the 
Christian  rehgion.  The  King  listened,  and  grunted 
as  if  he  were  not  interested. 

Then  Atahualpa  glanced  around  at  his  soldiers, 
speaking  to  them  in  their  own  language.  The 
Spaniards  thought  this  was  a  signal  for  war,  drew 
their  swords,  and  rushed  upon  the  Indians.  They 
met  with  but  slight  resistance.  Hundreds  of  the 
Indians  fell  in  the  pursuit,  for  they  all  ran  away. 


14  AMERICA  FIRST 


Those  who  bore  the  King's  Htter  dropped  it,  leav- 
ing the  poor  monarch  on  the  ground.  He  was 
easily  taken  prisoner,  all  of  his  army  having  fled 
with  loud  cries  over  the  mountains. 

Atahualpa  saw  what  the  Spaniards  wanted,  and 
offered  to  buy  his  life  and  liberty  by  giving  up 
many  wagon-loads  of  gold  and  silver.  Pizarro 
agreed  to  this  and  the  wagons  began  to  come  in, 
bringing  riches  in  such  abundance  that  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  carry  all  away.  There 
were  vessels,  cups,  bowls,  idols,  earrings,  ornaments 
of  all  kinds  —  everything  of  pure  gold  or  silver. 

"Take'  this  and  leave  my  country.  Also  bap- 
tize me  as  a  Christian,  if  you  will,  for  I  would 
serve  your  God  if  you  will  give  me  back  to  my 
people,"  said  Atahualpa. 

The  eyes  of  Pizarro  burned  at  the  sight  of  so 
much  wealth.  If  this  were  a  part  of  it,  why  not 
have  it  all?  His  men  gathered  around  the  great 
pile  and  began  to  w^onder  at  their  own  riches. 

Pizarro,  for  no  reason  whatsoever,  began  to  ac- 
cuse his  captive  of  treachery,  claiming  he  had  an 
army  ready  to  overwhelm  the  Spaniards,  and 
hence  deserved  death  for  his  conduct.  He  then 
put  the  King  in  chains,  and  had  him  tried  for 
treason  and  for  being  a  heathen. 

Poor  Atahualpa  was  sentenced  to  be  burned   at 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


the  stake.  In  spite  of  his  wilHngness  to  give  up 
all  his  gold  and  silver,  and  to  become  a  Christian, 
he  was  cruelly  put  to  death.  Thus  did  Pizarro 
carry  out  the  practices  of  the  early  Spaniards  in 
America,  and  complete  the  Conquest  of  Peru. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  YOUTH 

Ponce  de  Leon  was  a  brave  Spanish  soldier  who 
came  over  with  Columbus  on  his  second  voyage. 
He  was  so  fine  a  soldier  that  he  was  made  gover- 
nor of  a  part  of  Hispaniola.  One  day  he  stood  on 
a  high  hill,  and  saw  the  fair  shores  of  Porto  Rico. 
"I  will  conquer  that  island,"  said  he,  and  forth- 
with sailed  across  the  waters,  annexing  it  as  one 
of  his  possessions  and  establishing  himself  as 
governor. 

Like  all  the  early  Spaniards  he  was  cruel  to  the 
Indians  and  greedy  for  gold.  He  made  the  poor 
natives  work  hard,  and  slew  them  for  the  slightest 
offenses.  In  consequence,  De  Leon  was  hated  as 
were  all  the  Spanish  oppressors  of  that  period. 

De  Leon  was  getting  old;  his  hair  was  white, 
his  strength  was  waning,  and  he  longed  for  the 
vigor  and  fire  of  youth.  One  time  he  complained 
to  an  Indian  of  his  coming  age.  The  cunning 
savage  replied:    "Across  the  sea.  only  a  few  days' 


16  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


sail  from  here,  there  is  a  beautiful  land  full  of 
flowers  and  fruit  and  game.  It  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful place  in  the  world,  far  more  lovely  than  this 
island.  Somewhere  yonder  there  is  a  fountain  of 
magic  water,  in  which,  if  one  bathes,  his  hair  will 
become  black  and  his  limbs  will  become  strong. 
He  then  can  carry  his  sword  without  fatigue,  and 
conquer  his  enemies  with  his  strong  arm.  He  will 
again  be  a  young  man!" 

De  Leon  listened  gladly  to  the  story  of  this  wily 
savage  who  was  merely  trying  to  get  him  and  his 
men  to  leave  Porto  Rico.  He  resolved  to  find  the 
beautiful  country,  so  that  he  might  bathe  in  the 
Fountain  of  Youth.  He  called  his  men  to  him  at 
once  and  told  them  about  the  wonderful  water. 
In  a  few  days  he  set  sail  on  his  quest,  full  of  fool- 
ish hope  and  pride. 

It  was  in  the  early  spring;  the  breeze  was  soft 
and  the  air  was  mild.  In  a  short  while  the  ship 
came  to  land,  and  De  Leon  named  it  Florida. 
He  anchored  his  ship,  and  his  men  rowed  him  to 
shore.  The  spot  where  they  landed  was  near  the 
mouth  of  the  St.  John  River,  not  far  from  where 
St.  Augustine  now  stands.  They  were  the  first 
white  men  to  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  the  main- 
land of  North  America,  since  the  days  of  the 
Northmen,  five  hundred  years  before. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  17 

Now  began  the  vain  search  for  the  Fountain  of 
Youth.  Deep  into  the  forests  the  soldiers  plunged, 
wondering  at  the  gorgeous  flowers,  the  abundant 
fruit,  and  the  plentiful  game.  The  Indians  scurried 
away  at  the  approach  of  the  strange  white  faces. 
De  Leon  and  his  men  were  bent  on  other  things 
than  Indians  and  flowers;  they  were  hunting  for 
their  lost  youth!  In  every  stream,  brook,  river, 
and  creek  they  bathed.  Up  and  down  the  coast 
they  wandered,  trying  the  waters  everywhere. 
They  had  never  bathed  as  much  before  in  all 
their  lives,  but  it  was  all  in  vain! 

No  matter  where  or  how  often  he  bathed.  Ponce 
de  Leon's  hair  remained  white,  his  skin  was  dried 
and  his  limbs  were  bent  with  age  and  fatigue.  In 
vain  he  tried  a  hundred  places,  and  at  last  ex- 
claimed, ''There  is  no  such  fountain  here;  we  must 
return  to  Porto  Rico." 

Accordingly,  he  set  sail  for  the  island  from 
whence  he  had  departed,  just  as  old,  just  as  white 
haired,  and  just  as  foolish  in  his  behef  as  when  he 
had  started  out  on  his  fruitless  mission.  If  De 
Leon  did  not  find  his  Fountain  of  Youth,  he  at 
least  did  discover  a  beautiful  country,  and  give  a 
name  to  one  of  the  future  states  of  our  Union. 

For  nearly  a  year  afterwards,  De  Leon  and  his 
men  wandered  up  and  down  the  coast  of  Florida. 


18  AMERICA  FIRST 


Perhaps  they  were  still  seeking  the  Fountain  of 
Youth.  One  day,  they  were  attacked  by  the  In- 
dians, and  De  Leon  was  wounded  by  an  arrow. 
His  followers  put  him  on  board  ship  and  sailed 
away  to  Cuba.  Here  De  Leon  died  of  his  wounds, 
with  all  his  hopes  unfulfilled 


DE  SOTO  DISCO\^RS  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

Hernando  de  Soto  had  been  with  Pizarro  in 
Peru,  and  had  seen  there  the  temples  all  plated 
with  gold.  He  was  eager  for  conquests  and  wealth 
of  his  own,  and  called  for  volunteers  to  follow  him 
into  the  unexplored  lands  which  lay  northward. 
Hundreds  of  warriors  flocked  to  his  standard,  thirst- 
ing for  gold  and  adventure.  It  was  always  so  with 
the  Spaniards  of  those  days! 

In  May,  1539,  De  Soto,  with  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred foUow^ers,  landed  at  Tampa,  in  Florida.  He 
carried  blood-hounds  to  hunt  the  Indians  and 
chains  to  fetter  them.  A  drove  of  hogs  was 
brought  along  for  fresh  meat.  The  men  were  pro- 
vided with  horses,  fire-arms,  cannon,  and  steel 
armor.  It  was  a  gay  and  cruel  band,  bent  on  war 
and  on  finding  gold. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  out  of  the  forests 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  19 

there  stepped  a  white  man,  named  Juan  Ortiz, 
who  had  been  captive  among  the  Indians  for  ten 
years.  He  knew  the  Indian  language  well,  and 
joined  the  adventurers  as  guide  and  interpreter. 

The  band  marched  northward,  everywhere  rob- 
bing the  villages  of  food,  and  terrifying  the  In- 
dians. A  year  passed,  and  there  was  no  gold. 
Fear  alone  made  the  Indians  meet  them  with 
peace,  but  this  was  repaid  by  the  Spaniards  with 
many  brutal  deeds.  At  last  they  came  to  the 
banks  of  the  Savannah  River,  where  they  were  met 
by  a  beautiful  Indian  Princess.  As  they  neared 
the  village,  she  came  out  to  meet  them  and  wel- 
come them,  hoping  thus  to  make  friends  with 
them.  She  was  borne  on  a  litter  by  four  of  her 
subjects.  She  ahghted  before  De  Soto,  and  made 
signs  of  peace  and  friendship.  Taking  a  double 
string  of  pearls,  which  she  wore,  she  hung  it  around 
the  neck  of  De  Soto  and  bade  him  follow  her  into 
the  village. 

Here  the  party  rested  for  awhile,  entertained  by 
the  Princess  and  her  people.  But  De  Soto  ill  re- 
paid her  kindness.  On  leaving,  he  and  his  men 
robbed  the  village  of  all  the  valuables  they  could 
find,  and  took  the  Princess  captive.  They  made 
her  follow  them  into  the  wilderness.  But  De  Soto 
gained  little  by  this  cruelty,  for,  after  a  few  days' 


20  A^IERICA  FIRST 


marching,  the  Prmcess  escaped,  taking  with  her  a 
large  box  of  pearls,  which  De  Soto  had  prized  very 
highly. 

They  now  marched  westward  and  then  south- 
ward, until  they  came  to  the  town  of  Mavila, 
where  Mobile,  Alabama,  now^  stands.  The  Indian 
Chief  met  De  Soto  with  a  great  show  of  friendship, 
and  begged  him  and  a  few  of  his  soldiers  to  en- 
ter the  palisade  which  protected  the  village.  No 
sooner  had  they  done  so  than  the  Chief  shouted 
a  word  of  insult  and  ran  into  one  of  the  houses. 
In  a  moment  a  cloud  of  arrows  swept  from  the 
houses,  and  many  of  the  Spaniards  fell  dead. 
Only  De  Soto  and  a  few  of  them  escaped.  Enraged 
by  this  treatment,  the  Spaniards  assaulted  the 
town,  and  a  terrible  battle  followed,  lasting  nine 
hours.  In  the  end  the  Spaniards  won,  but  they 
lost  many  men,  and  nearly  all  of  their  property 
was  destroyed.  The  town  was  burned  and  hosts 
of  Indians  killed,  but  De  Soto  could  ill  afford  to 
lose  anything  more,  for  his  men  were  few  and  the 
natives  were  many. 

A  year  and  over  had  now  passed,  and  the  ad- 
venturers were  tired  of  their  journey.  They  had 
found  no  gold,  but  had  experienced  only  hardship 
and  battle  and  danger.  They  clamored  to  go 
home,  but  De  Soto  would  not  hear  of  it.     He  made 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  21 

them  again  take  up  their  journey  northward  and 
westward. 

It  w^as  now  a  strange-looking  army.  The  uni- 
forms with  which  they  had  started  had  worn  out, 
and  were  replaced  by  skins,  and  mats  made  of 
rushes  and  bark.  Their  hair  and  beards  had  grown 
until  they  looked  like  wild  men.  All  the  hogs  had 
long  since  been  eaten,  or  had  died  on  the  march. 
The  Indians,  forced  to  go  along  and  carry  the 
baggage,  often  escaped  at  night,  taking  with  them 
or  destroying  before  they  left  whatever  they  could. 
The  remaining  horses  w^ere  gaunt  and  haggard. 
There  was  no  longer  any  medicine,  and  but  little 
ammunition  for  the  guns.  These  men  were  sick 
at  heart  and  sorely  discouraged. 

Onward  they  trudged,  day  by  day,  avoiding 
the  Indians  as  much  as  they  could.  Two  years 
passed,  and  again  it  was  May.  One  morning  they 
marched  out  of  the  thick  undergrowth,  and  stood 
on  the  banks  of  a  great  river.  It  w^as  the  Miss- 
issippi, the  Father  of  Waters,  gazed  upon  for  the 
first  time  by  the  eyes  of  a  w^hite  man.  It  was  a 
noble  and  imposing  sight,  as  the  vast  volume  of 
water  rolled  majestically  before  them  on  its  way 
to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

Little,  however,  did  De  Soto  care  for  the  maj- 
esty or    beauty   of    this  river.     In  his  heart  still 


22  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


burned  the  desire  for  gold.  He  cried  to  his  men: 
"Let  us  hasten  and  build  boats  that  we  may 
cross."  It  was  a  hard  task  for  his  enfeebled  fol- 
lowers, but  they  undertook  the  labor,  that  they 
and  their  few  horses  might  get  to  the  other  side. 
Once  over,  they  began  the  fruitless  search,  but  al- 
ways with  the  same  result. 

For  another  year  they  wandered  over  the  coun- 
try, west  of  the  Mississippi.  Sometimes  they  had 
to  fight  the  Indians,  always  losing  a  few  men  and 
shortening  their  ammunition  supply.  Sometimes 
they  were  kindly  treated,  and  rested  in  the  vil- 
lages. At  one  place  the  Indians  thought  De  Soto 
was  a  god,  and  brought  to  him  the  sick  to  be 
healed  and  the  blind  to  be  cured.  They  were 
sorely  disappointed  at  the  result. 

De  Soto  was  now  weary,  emaciated  and  ill.  He 
had  at  last  lost  his  dreams,  and  the  time  had 
come  for  him  to  die.  He  had  caught  a  fever  from 
camping  in  a  swampy  place,  and  he  knew  his  final 
hours  were  at  hand.  Calling  his  men  around  him, 
he  begged  their  forgiveness  for  the  perils  and  suf- 
fering he  had  made  them  endure,  and  appointed 
one  among  them  to  be  his  successor.  The  next 
day  he  died,  and  was  buried  near  the  camp. 

His  followers,  however,  feared  the  Indians  would 
attack    them,    should  they  discover  that  De    Soto 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  23 

was  dead,  or  find  his  body.  For  all  along  he  had 
pretended  that  he  was  immortal  and  could  neither 
die  nor  be  slain.  Therefore,  at  night,  his  body 
was  taken  up,  wTapped  in  clothes  filled  with  sand 
and  stones,  and  carried  to  the  middle  of  the  river, 
where  it  was  dropped  into  the  keeping  of  the 
mighty  current  he  had  discovered. 

What  was  left  of  the  band  of  adventurers 
fashioned  a  few  boats  of  rough  material,  and  em- 
barked on  the  river  to  make  their  way  out  of  the 
wilderness.  For  many  days  and  weeks  they  sailed 
and  toiled,  until  at  last  a  ragged  remnant  reached 
a  settlement  in  Mexico,  where  they  told  the  sad 
story  of  their  wanderings  and  misfortunes. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 

Walter  Raleigh  was  a  gallant  young  man  of 
England,  very  bold  and  fond  of  adventure.  He 
was  an  officer  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  army.  One 
day,  in  London,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  attract- 
ing the  attention  of  the  Queen,  herself.  She  was 
out  for  a  walk  in  the  royal  park,  attended  by  her 
courtiers,  when  the  party  came  to  a  muddy  place 
in  the  path  over  which  the  Queen  must  go.  As 
she    hesitated   for   a   moment,   there   stepped   from 


24  AMERICA  FIRST 


the  bystanders  a  young  man  who  threw  his  cloak 
dow^n  over  the  mud  so  that  she  might  pass  with- 
out soihng  her  shoes.  T\Tien  she  had  crossed,  she 
called  the  young  man  to  her  side  and  offered  to 
pay  for  the  velvet  cloak. 

"The  only  pay  I  desire,  your  Majesty,  is 
permission  to  keep  the  cloak;  for  since  your 
Majesty's  foot  has  pressed  on  it,  it  has  become 
valuable  indeed,"  was  the  reply  of  the  young 
officer. 

The  Queen  was  pleased  at  the  answer,  and  asked 
his  name.  "Walter  Raleigh,  most  gracious  lady," 
said  he.  The  Queen  passed  on,  but  the  next  day 
she  sent  for  him  and  made  him  one  of  the  guards 
in  the  royal  household. 

Raleigh  soon  grew  into  favor  with  the  Queen. 
Court  life  was  very  gay  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 
Raleigh  was  among  the  most  brilliant  and  success- 
ful of  all  the  courtiers.  He  had  many  suits  of 
satin  and  velvet,  he  wore  a  hat  w^ith  a  band  of 
pearls,  and  his  shoe-buckles  cost  several  thousand 
dollars.  He  also  had  a  suit  of  silver  armor,  studded 
with  diamonds.  He  paid  for  all  these  things  him- 
self, for  he  was  not  only  a  fine  soldier  and  sailor, 
but  was  also  one  of  the  best  business  men  of  his 
time. 

Among  the  cherished  plans  of  Raleigh  was  one 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  25 

to  found  a  colony  in  the  New  World.  The  Queen 
said  he  might  plant  a  colony  in  America  anywhere 
he  could  find  a  place,  but  that  he  must  do  so  at 
his  own  expense.  The  Queen  was  as  thrifty  as 
Raleigh  was  adventurous. 

So  he  fitted  out  two  ships,  and  collected  a  lot 
of  poor  people  who  were  willing  to  go  anywhere, 
and  he  sent  them  across  the  ocean  to  plant  a 
colony  in  the  New  World.  After  four  months'  sail- 
ing, they  came  to  Roanoke  Island,  off  the  coast  of 
North  Carolina.  Taking  a  look  at  the  land,  they 
sailed  back  home,  and  reported  that  the  country 
was  very  beautiful,  but  that  they  w^ould  rather  be 
in  England.  Raleigh  named  the  land  Virginia,  in 
honor  of  the  Virgin  Queen;  he  was  not  quite  sure 
where  it  was. 

The  next  year  another  company  was  sent  out 
by  Raleigh.  They  landed  on  Roanoke  Island  and 
started  a  colony,  but  in  a  short  while  they  grew 
tired  and  a  passing  ship  took  them  also  back  to 
England.     Thus  the  second  effort  was  a  failure. 

These  colonists,  however,  brought  back  to 
Raleigh  many  products  of  the  country,  among 
other  things  some  tobacco,  which  they  told  Raleigh 
the  Indians  burned  in  their  pipes,  drawing  the 
smoke  through  their  mouths.  Raleigh  liked  the 
idea  of  smoking,   and  soon  began  to  use  tobacco 


2G  AjMERICA  first 


like  the  Indians.  As  he  sat  in  his  room  one  day 
with  his  pipe,  blowing  the  smoke  into  the  air,  his 
servant  came  in  with  a  pot  of  ale.  He  was  amazed 
to  see  smoke  coming  out  of  Raleigh's  mouth. 
"The  master  is  on  fire,"  he  cried  in  alarm,  and 
threw  the  ale  into  Raleigh's  face,  very  much  to  the 
latter's  amusement  and  chagrin. 

One  day  while  smoking  before  the  Queen, 
Raleigh  laid  her  a  wager  he  could  weigh  the  smoke 
coming  from  his  pipe.  The  Queen  accepted  the 
bet.  Raleigh  thereupon  weighed  a  small  quantity 
of  tobacco,  smoked  it  all,  and  then  carefully 
weighed  the  ashes.  The  difference  between  the 
weight  of  the  tobacco  and  the  weight  of  the  ashes, 
he  said,  must  be  the  weight  of  the  smoke.  The 
Queen  laughingly  paid  the  wager. 

Raleigh  tried  to  found  a  third  colony  in  America, 
but  it  came  to  grief  and  was  lost;  he  therefore 
gave  up  all  his  plans  of  colonization.  He  had 
spent  large  sums  of  money,  and  besides  he  had 
married  one  of  the  Queen's  maids-of-honor,  which 
so  displeased  Ehzabeth  that  Raleigh  lost  his 
favored  place  at  Court.  He  managed  to  get  up 
an  exploring  party  to  go  to  South  America  in 
search  of  gold.  Soon  after  his  return  to  England, 
the  Queen  died,  and  James  I.  became  King. 

King  James  did  not  like  Raleigh,  and  listened  to 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  27 

his  enemies,  who  were  envious  of  his  popularity. 
Charges  were  preferred  against  him,  and  he  was 
thrown  into  prison.  On  the  day  of  his  trial,  he 
pleaded  his  own  cause  with  great  eloquence.  He 
spoke  all  day  long,  from  early  morning  until  dark, 
but  he  was  condemned  to  death. 

For  some  reason  he  was  not  executed  for  fifteen 
years,  but  was  kept  confined  in  prison,  where  he 
spent  his  time  writing  a  history  of  the  world. 

He  met  death  like  a  brave  man,  asking  to  be 
executed  in  the  morning  hours,  for  he  had  a  fever 
at  the  time,  and  he  knew  that  if  he  waited  until 
evening  the  chill  would  come  and  he  would  shake; 
thus  his  enemies  might  think  he  trembled  for  fear. 
His  request  was  granted.  As  he  mounted  the 
block,  he  touched  the  headsman's  axe,  saying,  "It 
is  a  sharp  medicine,  but  it  will  cure  all  ills." 

He  then  laid  his  aged  head  upon  the  block,  and, 
when  the  axe  fell,  the  old  courtier's  troubles  were 
over. 


THE  LOST  COLONY  OF  ROANOKE 

TVTien  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  tried  a  third  time  to 
plant  a  colony  on  Roanoke  Island,  he  sent  across 
the  ocean  farmers,  mechanics  and  carpenters,  with 


28  AMERICA  FIRST 


their  wives,  thinking  that  famihes  would  be  more 
content  to  stay  than  single  men.  The  expedition 
was  in  charge  of  Captain  John  TMiite. 

The  colonists  landed  on  the  island,  built  houses 
and  forts,  planted  gardens,  and  cultivated  the 
fields.  Raleigh  had  advised  them  to  make  friends 
with  the  Indians.  So,  w^hen  one  of  the  Chiefs 
came  in.  Captain  \Miite  greeted  him,  and  gave  him 
some  cheap  jewelry,  a  gaudy  handkerchief,  and  a 
knife  as  presents.  He  then  asked  the  Indian  to 
kneel  down  while  he  conferred  on  him  the  title  of 
Lord  of  Roanoke. 

All  went  w^ell  with  the  little  colony.  The  houses 
were  ready  for  the  coming  winter,  the  crops  were 
growing,  and  the  Indians  were  friendly.  There 
was  great  rejoicing  when  it  was  announced  that 
Mrs.  Dare,  the  daughter  of  the  Governor,  had  a 
little  baby  girl,  the  first  white  child  of  English 
parents  to  be  born  in  America. 

Governor  White  thought  he  might  safely  sail 
back  to  England  in  order  to  get  some  supphes  for 
the  winter;  he  planned  to  return  to  his  colony  in 
a  few  weeks.  So  he  went  to  England,  leaving  his 
happy  people  on  Roanoke  Island.  But,  when  he 
reached  England,  he  found  that  country  in  a  state 
of  great  excitement  over  the  threatened  Spanish 
invasion. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


It  seems  that  a  bold  Englishman,  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  had  sailed  into  the  harbor  of  Cadiz,  in 
Spain,  and  had  burned  or  captured  all  the  ships 
there.  This  had  made  the  Spaniards  angry,  es- 
pecially as  he  had  said,  ''I  have  singed  the  beard 
of  the  Spanish  King." 

The  King  of  Spain  fitted  out  a  great  fleet  in- 
tended to  destroy  the  English  navy;  he  would 
land  an  army  on  English  soil  and  plunder  Eng- 
land herself!  The  fleet  consisted  of  about  one 
hundred  and  thirty  ships,  with  30,000  soldiers  and 
sailors.  It  would  not  be  considered  wonderful  in 
these  days,  but  it  was  considered  a  great  fleet 
then,  and  was  called  the  *' Invincible  Armada." 

This  expedition  created  consternation  in  Eng- 
land, and  everybody  was  hurried  on  board  ships 
to  fight  the  Spaniards.  Hardly  had  the  Armada 
sailed  out  of  the  harbor  before  a  severe  storm 
scattered  the  English  ships;  so  that,  later  on, 
Drake  and  the  other  English  sea  captains  fought 
the  enemy  singly.  Fortunately,  the  English  ships 
were  light  and  w^ere  able  to  sail  all  around  the  big, 
heavy  Spanish  ships,  doing  them  much  damage 
and  not  suffering  much  themselves.  The  Armada 
circled  the  British  Isles,  meeting  storm  after  storm, 
and  pursued  and  harried  by  the  English.  At  last 
the  great  fleet  was  broken   up  in   a  terrible   gale. 


30  AMERICA  FIRST 


many  of  the  ships  were  lost,  and  the  great  Armada 
came  to  nought. 

It  took  a  long  time  for  all  this  to  happen,  and, 
in  the  meanwhile.  Governor  Wiite  could  not  get 
back  to  his  colony  at  Roanoke.  One  ship  was 
fitted  out  and  ready  to  sail,  but  the  Government 
seized  it  and  sent  it  off  to  fight  the  Spaniards. 
Another  ship  was  made  ready,  and  actually  sailed, 
but  the  Captain  turned  pirate,-  and  went  after 
Spanish  vessels  in  the  West  Indies.  It  was  nearly 
three  years  before  Governor  ^Tiite  found  himself 
on  board  his  own  ship,  on  his  w^ay  to  the  colonists 
and  to  his  little  granddaughter. 

\Ye  can  imagine  the  feehngs  of  the  old  Captain 
as  he  sailed  over  the  seas,  wondering  what  had 
become  of  his  friends  and  family,  and  how  they 
had  fared  all  this  time.  They  had  looked  for  him 
to  return  to  them  in  a  few  months,  and  here  it 
was  nearly  three  years!    ' 

Land  was  sighted  one  day  just  after  dark,  and 
a  light  glimmered  on  shore.  "That  must  be  the 
home  of  one  of  the  colonists,"  exclaimed  the  Gov- 
ernor. Hastily,  a  boat  was  lowered  and  he  was 
rowed  to  shore.  On  landing,  his  men  with  him 
looked  about,  called  aloud,  blew  trumpets  and 
fired  off  their  guns,  but  there  was  not  a  sight  or  a 
sound  of  any  of  the  colonists. 


«£.  ,\.«*r£.i 


On  a  tree  nearby  was  carved  the  word  'Qroatan.' 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  iJl 

All  night  they  searched,  and  next  day.  At  last 
they  came  to  a  few  huts,  broken  down  and  long 
unused;  there  were  also  some  torn  bits  of  cloth- 
ing scattered  about.  No  signs  could  be  found  of 
any  colonists  having  been  near  in  a  great  while. 
On  a  tree  near  by  was  carved  the  word,  croatan. 

Governor  AMiite,  when  he  saw  this,  thought  he 
knew  what  had  become  of  the  colonists,  because 
he  had  told  them  that  if,  for  any  cause,  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  move  away,  they  should 
carve  on  a  tree  or  door-post  the  name  of  the  place 
to  which  they  were  going.  Croatan  was  the  name 
of  a  tribe  of  Indians,  and  the  Governor  at  once 
thought  his  colonists  had  gone  to  the  island  where 
those  Indians  lived. 

He  tried  to  reach  this  island,  but  storms  arose 
and  blew  him  off  his  path.  Besides  which,  his 
crew  demanded  that  he  return  home.  So  he  set 
sail  for  England,  leaving  the  lost  colony  to  its 
fate.  From  that  day  to  this  no  one  has  ever 
known  what  became  of  the  lost  colony  of  Roanoke, 
or  of  the  little  baby  girl  whose  eyes  first  saw  the 
light  on  the  soil  of  America. 


32  AlVIERICA  FIRST 


SOME  ADVENTURES  OF  JOHN  SIVHTH 

Our  hero  of  Jamestown,  Virginia,  was  such  a  re- 
markable character  that  it  is  well  for  us  to  learn 
something  of  his  adventures  before  he  came  to  the 
New  World. 

As  a  boy,  he  was  strong,  active,  and  full  of  dar- 
ing. WTien  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  he  ran 
away  from  home  to  join  in  the  wars  of  Holland. 
For  four  years  he  served  as  a  soldier;  then,  get- 
ting tired  of  obeying  orders,  he  left  his  company 
and  built  for  himself  a  hut  in  the  woods.  Here  he 
did  all  his  own  work,  cooked,  and  studied  mih- 
tary  tactics.  He  was  determined  to  be  a  great 
soldier. 

He  now  set  out  for  the  East  to  join  the  Chris- 
tians who  were  fighting  the  Turks.  As  he  passed 
through  France,  our  young  hero  lost  his  money, 
and  had  a  hard  time  to  keep  himself  from  starv- 
ing. Finally  he  reached  a  port,  after  walking 
many  miles  and  begging  food  along  the  road,  and 
he  boarded  a  vessel  bound  for  Italy. 

After  they  had  been  out  at  sea  for  a  few  days, 
a  storm  arose,  and  the  ship  looked  as  though  she 
were    about    to    go    down.     The    sailors    were    so 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  33 

frightened  they  began  praying.  One  of  them  said, 
"We  have  a  lad  here,  not  of  our  rehgion.  He  has 
brought  on  the  storm.  Overboard  with  him!" 
Thereupon,  they  seized  John  Smith,  and  cast  him 
into  the  sea.  But  Smith  was  the  best  swimmer 
of  his  day,  and  the  water  was  hke  land  to  him. 
So  he  swam  for  many  hours,  and  finally  landed  on 
a  strange  shore. 

We  next  hear  of  him  in  Austria,  where  he  joined 
the  army  and  again  set  out  on  his  way  to  fight  the 
Turks.  Smith  w^on  a  great  name  for  himself  in 
the  following  way:  A  Turkish  officer,  to  amuse 
the  ladies  in  his  camp,  sent  a  challenge  to  the  Aus- 
trian army  for  single  combat  with  any  man  they 
might  send  against  him. 

"I  will  accept  the  challenge,"  said  Smith,  and 
rode  out  in  front  of  both  armies.  He  dared  the 
Turkish  officer  to  come  forth.  They  fought  on 
horseback,  and,  as  they  rushed  together.  Smith 
directed  his  lance  so  that  the  point  of  it  w^ent 
through  the  eye  of  his  opponent.  The  Turkish 
officer  fell  dead,  and  Smith  cut  off  his  head,  carry- 
ing it  away  on  his  spear.  This  so  enraged  the 
Turkish  soldiers  that  another  officer  rode  out  to 
avenge  his  comrade's  death.  But  he  shared  a  like 
fate,  and  Smith  carried  his  head  away  on  the  end 
of  his  spear.     Then  with  a  great  show   of  daring 


34  A^IERICA  FIRST 


he  rode  up  to  the  Turkish  hues,  and  challenged 
another  to  come  out  and  give  him  battle. 

Nothing  daunted,  a  third  Turk,  big  and  fierce, 
came  forth  on  a  fresh  horse.  Smith  was  tired  out 
by  this  time,  having  killed  two  men,  but  he  spurred 
his  horse  into  the  combat.  As  the  two  came  to- 
gether. Smith  fell  to  the  ground,  and  his  com- 
panions thought  he  w^as  dead. 

The  Turkish  officer  leaped  from  his  horse  to 
complete  the  victory,  but  Smith  was  up  in  a  hurry 
and,  sword  in  hand,  awaited  his  enemy.  Fiercely 
they  fought  for  an  hour,  at  the  end  of  which  time 
Smith's  sword  went  through  the  body  of  the  big 
Turk,  and  his  head  also  was  carried  off  the  field. 

By  now  the  Turks  had  had  enough  fighting,  and 
the  ladies  declared  they  were  sufficiently  amused 
for  the  day. 

In  one  of  the  battles  which  occurred,  Smith  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  Turks  and  was  made  a  slave, 
according  to  the  custom  of  those  days.  He  wore  a 
ring  around  his  neck,  and  worked  about  the  house 
for  his  Turkish  mistress.  She  w^as  so  much  pleased 
with  him  that  she  sent  him  as  a  present  to  her 
brother,  who  lived  in  a  distant  town. 

Smith  found  his  new  master  very  cruel  indeed, 
and  his  Ufe  was  hard.  One  day  a  bitter  quarrel 
ensued    between    them,    in    which    Smith    slew    his 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  35 

master.  Taking  off  the  dead  man's  clothes,  he 
dressed  himself  up  as  a  Turk,  and  marched  away, 
out  of  captivity.  No  one  molested  him,  for  he 
spoke  the  Turkish  language,  and  acted  in  every 
way  as  though  he  were  a  Turk. 

Soon  he  came  to  the  border  of  Russia,  and  from 
there  went  peaceably  through  Germany,  France 
and  Spain,  finally  making  his  way  back  to  Eng- 
land, where  he  told  everybody  about  the  wonder- 
ful adventures  which  had  befallen  him. 


MORE  ADVENTURES  OF  JOHN  SMITH 

When  John  Smith  arrived  in  England,  he  found 
a  ship  with  colonists  on  board  ready  to  sail  for 
the  New  World.  He  was  asked  to  join  the  party 
and  try  his  fortune  in  the  strange  land  across  the 
ocean.  Of  course,  he  agreed,  and  the  ship  soon 
set  sail.  Now,  the  King  had  arranged  for  the  new 
colony  to  be  governed  by  twelve  counselors,  whose 
names  were  put  in  a  sealed  envelope,  not  to  be 
opened  until  the  vessel  reached  America.  There 
was  much  quarrelling  on  board  as  to  which  among 
the  adventurers  was  the  greatest;  you  may  be  sure 
that  Smith  did  a  deal  of  boasting,  and  would  al- 
low that  no  one  was  greater  than  he.     His  vain 


AMERICA  FIRST 


talk  so  alarmed  some  of  those  present  and  so  en- 
raged others  that  thej^  put  him  in  irons  and  kept 
him  thus  until  they  reached  land. 

They  founded  Jamestown,  in  Virginia  but  the 
colonists  were  not  suited  to  the  rude  work  of  the 
wilderness.  They  were  gentlemen  who  w^anted 
gold,  and  they  did  not  care  to  cut  down  trees, 
build  houses,  and  plant  gardens.  Smith  warned 
them  they  had  better  plant  their  gardens  in  the 
spring;  if  they  wanted  gold,  they  could  seek  it 
afterwards.  But  they  would  not  listen  to  him, 
and  w^ent  about  the  woods,  digging  around  trees 
and  seeking  in  the  gullies  for  the  precious  metal. 
This  made  the  Indians  laugh,  for  they  knew  that 
the  winter  would  find  the  white  folks  without  food. 
And  so  it  came  to  pass.  A  terrible  starving  time 
fell  upon  them,  and  many  of  them  died. 

The  Indians  w^ould  not  sell  corn  to  the  colo- 
nists, and  so  Smith  set  out  to  make  them.  He 
and  a  few  men  went  up  the  James  River  in  a 
boat,  until  they  came  to  an  Indian  village.  Here 
they  made  signs  that  Smith  would  exchange 
hatchets  and  beads  for  corn.  The  Indians  knew 
the  whites  were  starving,  and  shook  their  heads, 
"No."  The  trinkets  Smith  offered  did  not  tempt 
them,  but  they  said  they  would  give  a  small  piece 
of  bread  for  Smith's  gun  and  sword. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY 


Smith  knew  the  Indians  were  afraid  of  his  gun, 
so  he  fired  it  off  several  times.  This  frightened 
the  Indians  so  much  that  they  ran,  yelhng,  into 
the  woods,  which  gave  Smith  and  his  men  the  op- 
portunity to  seize  a  quantity  of  corn.  The  In- 
dians soon  came  back,  carrying  their  painted  idol 
which  they  thought  would  destroy  the  white  men. 
But  Smith  and  his  men  fired  their  guns  again, 
whereupon,  the  Indians  dropped  the  idol  and  ran 
away  into  the  woods  for  the  second  time. 

Smith  seized  the  idol  and  started  to  carry  it 
away.  When  the  Indians  returned  and  saw  him 
with  their  precious  god,  they  gladly  exchanged  a 
boat  load  of  corn  for  it;  by  their  manner  they 
showed  Smith  plainly  that  they  wished  he  would 
go  away  as  quietly  as  possible.  This  the  brave 
Captain  was  not  slow  to  do,  especially  as  he  had 
a  large  amount  of  good  corn. 

Later  on,  Captain  Smith  decided  to  explore  the 
country,  and,  with  a  few  men  and  two  Indian 
guides  he  sailed  up  the  Chickahominy  River  in 
search  of  adventure.  After  he  had  sailed  for  some 
distance,  with  an  Indian  guide  he  went  ashore, 
leaving  the  rest  of  the  party  to  boil  the  pot  for 
supper.  He  had  not  gone  very  far  before  he 
heard  cries  and  sounds  of  strife  from  the  direction 
of  the  canoe.     The  Indians  had  attacked  the  party 


38  AMERICA  FIRST 


and  had  killed  every  one  of  them.  This  left  Smith 
and  his  guide  alone  in  a  wilderness,  surrounded  by 
hostile  savages. 

Smith  now  tied  the  Indian  fast  to  his  own  arm, 
so  that  he  could  not  escape  and  both  began  to 
run.  An  arrow  whizzed  out  from  the  bushes, 
striking  Smith  in  the  thigh.  Signs  of  Indians  were 
all  around.  Their  forms  skulked  in  the  under- 
growth, and  their  arrow^s  flew  through  the  air. 
Smith  seized  his  guide  and  held  him  in  front  as  a 
shield  to  protect  himself  from  the  arrows.  In  this 
way  the  brave  soldier  tried  to  walk  backwards 
towards  his  canoe,  but,  not  seeing  where  he  was 
walking,  he  backed  into  a  quicksand  up  to  his 
waist. 

The  Indians,  realizing  the  plight  of  Smith  and 
the  Indian  guide,  ran  yelhng  from  the  woods,  and 
made  them  both  captive.  They  were  pulled  from 
the  mud,  washed  clean,  and  their  clothes  were 
dried  before  a  fire.  Smith  knew  that  this  was  all 
in  preparation  for  a  great  time  when  he  would  be 
tortured  to  death. 

Soon  the  Indians  came  with  Smith  to  their 
Chief,  Opecancanough,  who  looked  at  the  captive 
with  angry  face.  Smith  thought  his  hour  had  ar- 
rived, but  he  resolved  to  put  it  off  as  long  as  he 
could.      So   he   took   out   his   pocket   compass   and 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  S9 

showed  it  to  the  Indians.  They  looked  at  the 
trembhng  needle,  which  they  could  see  but  not 
•touch,  on  account  of  the  glass,  and  were  so  as- 
tonished that  they  decided  riot  to  kill  Smith  at 
once,  but  to  send  him  to  Powhatan. 

When  Powhatan  saw  the  white  man,  he  was 
greatly  pleased,  and  ordered  him  fed  abundantly 
that  he  might  be  fat  when  the  time  came  to  kill 
him.  Smith  ate  so  much  bread  and  deer  meat  and 
vegetables  that  he  fell  ill,  and  asked  Powhatan  to 
let  him  send  w^ord  to  his  friends  at  Jamestown. 

Smith  wrote  a  note  on  a  piece  of  bark,  with  a 
bit  of  burnt  stick,  and  gave  it  to  a  messenger  to 
take  to  the  colony.  The  messenger  quickly  de- 
hvered  the  note,  and  came  back  with  presents  for 
Powhatan.  But  Powhatan  said  that  any  man  who 
could  make  a  piece  of  bark  talk  by  merely  marking 
on  it  was  a  magician,  and  should  be  put  to  death. 

One  day  Smith  was  brought  in  before  the  savage 
old  Chief,  bound  with  thongs,  and  laid  upon  a 
stone,  while  the  warriors  prepared  to  beat  out  his 
brains.  This  would  have  been  the  end  of  Cap- 
tain John  Smith  if  Powhatan's  daughter,  Pocahon- 
tas, had  not  rushed  in  and  begged  her  father  to 
spare  the  life  of  the  white  man.  Old  Powhatan 
ordered  Smith  unbound,  and  he  was  led  away  to 
continue  his  adventures  in  the  wilds  of  America. 


40  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


PERSECUTION  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  AND 
PURITANS 

TMien  James  I.  became  King  of  England,  he 
tried  to  enforce  obedience  to  one  Church,  with  all 
its  forms  and  ceremonies  and  beliefs.  Other  kings 
had  done  this  before  him.  Said  he,  ''I  will  have 
one  doctrine,  one  discipline,  one  religion  in  sub- 
stance and  ceremony." 

This  was  very  unwise  in  the  King,  for  men 
should  be  allowed  to  worship  God  in  their  own 
way,  and  not  in  any  king's  way.  But  James  cared 
little  for  the  wishes  of  his  people.  "I  will  govern 
according  to  the  common  weal,  and  not  according 
to  the  common  will,''  was  his  haughty  speech. 

There  were  many  people  in  England  w^ho  were 
opposed  to  parts  of  the  rehgious  service  and  to 
many  of  the  ecclesiastical  ceremonies  of  the  Church 
of  England.  They  wished  to  purify  the  Church  of 
its  old  customs,  and  so  they  were  called  ''Puri- 
tans" by  way  of  derision.  The  Puritans  frankly 
refused  to  conform  to  the  Church. 

"I  shall  make  them  conform,  else  I  shall  harry 
them  out  of  this  land,  or  even  worse,"  said  King 
James,  in  anger. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  41 

Some  of  the  Puritans,  believing  they  had  a 
right  to  think  for  themselves  in  the  matter  of  re- 
ligion, broke  away  from  the  Established  Church, 
and  quietly  formed  separate  congregations  of  their 
own.  One  of  these  congregations  met  in  the  old 
Manor  House  of  Scrooby,  where  lived  a  certain 
William  Brewster,  who  was  a  staunch  Puritan, 
Non-Conformist  and  Separatist.  His  followers  were 
called  "Non-Conformists"  because  they  refused  to 
conform  to  the  Established  Church,  and  "Sepa- 
ratists" because  they  separated  from  it. 

Every  Sunday,  numbers  of  people  could  be  seen 
going  to  his  house  to  listen  to  the  sermon  of  their 
teacher  and  pastor.  One  of  the  most  active  of  his 
congregation  was  William  Bradford,  w^hose  home 
was  near  the  old  manor  house.  Bradford  was 
only  seventeen  years  old  at  the  time  he  joined 
the  congregation  at  Scrooby. 

When  King  James  heard  of  this  meeting  he  was 
very  wroth  indeed.  "They  must  conform  to  my 
Church  and  my  service,  or  it  shall  be  the  worse 
for  them!"    he  declared. 

Therefore,  some  of  the  Puritans  were  taken  and 
put  in  prison,  others  had  their  houses  watched  day 
and  night,  while  still  others  were  threatened  with 
a  loss  of  their  means  of  livelihood.  All  of  them 
lived   in  terror   of  the   King  and   his   agents.     No 


42  AJMERICA  FIRST 


wonder  the  Puritans  resolved  to  leave  the  country, 
if  possible. 

Though  the  King  said  he  would  harry  them  out 
of  the  land,  they  now  found  it  hard  to  get  away. 
The  King's  officers  were  told  to  arrest  any  who 
attempted  to  go.  Accordingly,  they  had  to  make 
their  plans  with  great  secrecy. 

A  large  company  of  the  Puritans  hired  a  ship 
solely  for  themselves,  and  agreed  w^ith  the  owner 
to  be  ready  on  a  certain  day  to  board  her  with 
all  their  goods  and  chattels.  After  long  waiting, 
much  exposure,  and  many  delays,  the  ship  finally 
arrived  one  night,  and  the  Puritans  went  on  board, 
hoping  to  get  to  Holland. 

Hardly  were  they  gathered  together  before  the 
Captain  betrayed  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
King's  officers.  They  were  put  into  open  boats, 
and  were  rifled  of  all  their  possessions.  Even  their 
shirts  were  torn  open  in  the  search  for  money. 
Their  books  and  papers  were  taken  away.  Then 
the  entire  company  was  sent  back  to  town,  and 
put  into  prison,  —  some  for  a  month  and  others 
for  even  a  longer  time. 

But  the  Puritans  refused  to  give  up  their  con- 
gregation, and  they  would  neither  conform  to  the 
King's  Church  nor  bow  to  his  will.  After  they 
were  all  out  of   prison,  they  secretly  made  an  ar- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  43 

rangeinent  with  a  Dutch  Captain  to  take  them  on 
board  his  vessel  at  a  point  agreed  upon,  far  from 
any  town. 

The  women  and  children  were  sent  to  this  place 
in  a  small  boat,  which,  arriving  ahead  of  time,  put 
into  a  small  creek  to  wait.  Unluckily  the  time 
came  for  low  tide  and  they  stuck  in  the  mud. 
There  was  no  way  to  reach  them,  nor  could  they 
get  away  until  the  tide  rose  and  floated  the  boat. 
In  the  meanwhile,  the  ship  arrived,  ready  for 
her  passengers. 

The  men  of  the  Puritan  party  had  come  and 
were  walking  impatiently  along  the  shore.  One  of 
the  ship's  boats  was  sent  to  get  them;  for  it  w^as 
thought  that  the  women  and  children  could  be 
taken  up  later.  But  just  as  these  men  were  safely 
on  board,  an  armed  body  of  the  King's  pursuers 
was  seen  coming  across  the  fields.  The  Dutch 
Captain,  in  great  haste,  weighed  anchor,  hoisted 
his  sails,  and  made  away. 

The  Puritans  were  in  great  despair  over  leaving 
their  families  to  the  mercy  of  the  ofiicers,  but  the 
Captain  refused  to  go  back,  since  he  feared  the 
wrath  of  his  own  Government  at  his  thus  defying 
the  will  of  the  King  of  England.  Therefore,  the 
men  were  landed  in  Holland. 

But   it   was   not   long   before    the    English    King 


44  AMERICA  FIRST 


grew  tired  of  the  controversy.  ''Let  them  go; 
the  country  is  well  rid  of  them,"  said  he,  and 
gave  orders  to  make  no  more  arrests.  Therefore, 
in  a  short  while,  the  women  and  children  and  the 
rest  of  the  Puritan  Church  joined  the  men  in  Hol- 
land, and  began  their  new  life  in  a  strange  land. 
It  was  now  that  they  called  themselves  "Pilgrims." 

For  the  next  eleven  or  twelve  years  the  Pil- 
grims Uved  in  Holland.  But  it  was  hard  to  keep 
English  customs  in  a  foreign  land.  Their  religion 
was  too  solemn  and  sober  for  the  pleasure-loving 
Dutch.  The  young  people  were  fast  learning  the 
Dutch  language  and  customs.  The  elders  saw 
more  dangers  to  their  religion  from  the  Sunday 
pastimes  of  the  people,  than  they  found  in  Eng- 
land from  the  wrath  of  the  King.  Besides,  they 
were  poor,  and  there  was  also  a  rumor  of  war 
coming  on. 

Therefore,  the  Pilgrims  decided  upon  another 
change.  The  King  of  England  granted  them  land 
in  the  New  World,  and  let  them  know  he  would 
not  molest  them  in  their  worship.  Doubtless  he 
was  glad  to  put  the  ocean  between  him  and  the 
troublesome  congregation. 

Two  vessels  were  engaged  to  take  them  across 
—  the  Speedwell,  lying  at  Delfthaven,  in  Holland, 
and  the   Mayflower,  taking  on   supplies  at  South- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  45 


ampton,  in  England.  The  two  vessels  started  out 
together,  but  the  Speedwell  sprung  a  leak,  and  had 
to  put  back  into  harbor.  The  Pilgrims,  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  in  all,  went  aboard  the  May- 
flowery  and  set  sail  for  the  shores  of  America,  glad 
to  turn  their  backs  on  the  persecutions  and  hard- 
ships of  the  Old  World,  and  knowing  that  they 
w^ould  find  in  their  new  home  freedom  to  worship 
God  in  their  own  way. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  MILES  STANDISH 

Captain  Miles  Standish  was  an  English  soldier 
who,  in  his  wanderings,  came  across  the  Pilgrim 
settlement  in  Holland.  He  liked  the  courage  of 
these  brave  countrymen  of  his,  and  attached  him- 
self to  their  community,  though  he  would  not 
join  their  Church.  When  they  began  to  discuss  a 
plan  for  coming  to  America,  he  spoke  up  heartily 
in  favor  of  it. 

He  was  fond  of  adventure,  and  knew  there  were 
Indians  and  bears  and  wild  creatures  of  all  kinds 
in  America  to  fight;  and,  since  fighting  was  his 
main  business  and  pleasure,  he  resolved  to  be 
among  the  very  first  to  go  over  with  the  Puritans. 

Accordingly,  Miles   Standish  was  among  the  co- 


46  AMERICA  FIRST 


lonial  passengers  on  the  Mayflower.  For  nine 
weeks,  the  Httle  ship  battled  with  wind  and  waves. 
It  was  a  trying  voyage,  but  Miles  Standish  was 
among  those  who  did  not  lose  courage.  He  strode 
the  deck  in  the  worst  weather,  and  helped  the 
sailors  manage  the  ship.  He  had  a  cheerful  voice 
and  a  kindly  manner  with  his  fear-smitten  com- 
panions, —  all  of  which  aided  many  a  discouraged 
soul  in  standing  the  long  voyage. 

When  the  ship  reached  Cape  Cod,  Standish, 
with  a  few  followers,  went  on  shore,  looking  for  a 
place  to  establish  a  settlement.  Such  a  place  was 
found  almost  at  the  very  end  of  Cape  Cod.  The 
men  went  in  single  file  for  about  a  mile,  when 
they  saw  five  or  six  Indians,  with  a  dog,  coming 
towards  them.  When  the  savages  caught  sight 
of  the  white  men,  they  ran  into  the  wood  and 
whistled  for  the  dog  to  follow. 

Standish  and  his  men  pursued  the  Indians,  but 
could  not  overtake  them.  When  night  came,  they 
built  a  fire,  set  three  men  to  act  as  sentinels,  and 
slept  on  the  ground  until  morning.  By  daybreak 
they  were  up  and  after  the  Indians,  but  found  no 
trace  of  them  nor  of  any  houses. 

They  next  discovered  some  mounds  of  sand  that 
looked  like  graves.  These  they  dug  into,  and 
came   upon   bows   and   arrows.     But   they  covered 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  47 

them  over  again,  knowing  the  Indians  did  not  hke 
their  dead  to  be  disturbed.  Other  mounds  con- 
tained baskets  of  corn,  which  the  men  very 
promptly  carried  away,  since  they  were  much  in 
need  of  it  for  bread. 

As  they  went  through  the  w^oods,  they  came 
upon  a  deer-trap,  which  was  jsuch  a  curious  con- 
trivance that  WilHam  Bradford  examined  it  with 
much  curiosity.  Stepping  upon  the  hidden  spring, 
the  trap  closed  on  his  leg  so  tightly  that  he  called 
lustily  for   his  companions  to  hasten  and  relieve  him. 

After  wandering  through  the  woods  all  day, 
they  came  to  the  shore,  shot  off  their  guns  as  a 
signal  to  the  ship,  and  then  were  taken  on  board 
the  vessel.  This  ended  the  first  adventure  of 
Miles  Standish  at  Cape  Cod. 

After  exploring  the  land  several  times  for  a 
place  to  found  their  colony,  and  locating  none  to 
suit  them,  the  company  spent  about  a  month  in 
the  Mayflower,  making  the  best  of  a  very  uncom- 
fortable situation.  At  last,  toward  the  end  of  De- 
cember, they  came  to  a  place  which  John  Smith, 
of  Virginia,  in  one  of  his  voyages  along  this  coast, 
had  named  Plymouth.  Here  they  landed  and 
founded  their  colony. 

An  Indian  tribe  had  lived  among  the  Plymouth 
hills,  but  a  plague  had  swept  the  entire  tribe  away. 


48  AMERICA  FIRST 


The  stubble  in  the  fields  was  several  years  old,  and 
the  rude  shelters  of  the  Indians  were  rotting. 
There  was  no  one  to  dispute  the  rights  of  the 
settlers  to  claim  the  soil  for  their  own. 

Rough  houses  of  logs  were  soon  built,  the  spaces 
between  the  cracks  of  the  logs  being  daubed  with 
mud.  Oiled  paper  was  used  instead  of  glass  for 
the  windows.  The  weather  was  now  very  cold, 
the  snow  covered  the  ground,  and  almost  blocked 
the  people  in  their  homes.  There  was  little  fuel 
and  scant  food.      The  colonists  suffered  dreadfully. 

Many  of  them  died,  including  Rose  Standish, 
the  beautiful  young  wife  of  the  brave  Captain. 
But  the  Captain  himself  kept  up  staunchly,  and 
w^ent  among  the  sick  and  dying,  doing  all  he  could 
to  help  them.  At  one  time  he  and  six  others  were 
the  only  well  ones  in  the  place.  These  well  ones 
brought  all  the  wood,  made  all  the  fires,  cooked 
all  the  food,  attended  to  all  the  beds,  and  even 
washed  the  clothes  for  the  entire  colony.  When 
spring  came,  only  fifty  of  the  company  were  left 
alive.  It  was  a  dreadful  winter,  but  the  Pilgrims 
were  not  dismayed  by  this  bad  beginning. 

For  fear  the  Indians  would  discover  the  weak- 
ness of  the  whites,  and  attack  them  in  their  sick 
and  helpless  condition,  the  graves  of  those  who  had 
died  were  ploughed  over  and  sown  with  seed. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  49 

During  the  spring  they  made  friends  with  some 
of  the  Indians,  particularly  with  Massasoit,  an  In- 
dian Chief,  and  with  Squanto,  another  chieftain 
who  knew  how  to  speak  English.  Squanto  was 
very  helpful  to  the  colonists.  He  taught  them 
how  to  catch  fish  and  how  to  tread  eels  out  of  the 
mud.  He  told  them  to  plant  corn  when  the  oak 
leaf  was  as  big  as  a  mouse's  ear,  and  to  drop  a 
dead  herring  in  each  hill  for  fertilizer.  He  in- 
formed the  unfriendly  Indians  that  the  white  set- 
tlers kept  the  plague  in  their  cellars,  beside  the 
black  thunder  pow^der,  and  could  let  it  loose  when- 
ever they  chose.  In  fact,  he  saved  the  little  colony 
from  utter  destruction  at  the  hands  of  the  un- 
friendly savages. 

At  one  time.  Captain  Standish  had  gone  in  a 
boat  to  buy  corn  from  a  tribe  of  Indians  down  the 
coast.  When  he  arrived,  the  Indians  formed  a 
plot  to  kill  him.  One  of  them  invited  him  to 
spend  the  night  in  his  house.  The  wary  Captain 
did  not  close  his  eyes.  He  could  not  understand 
what  they  said,  but  their  actions  were  suspicious. 
Pacing  to  and  fro,  keeping  his  gun  always  ready, 
he  watched  through  the  long  night  for  any  sign  of 
attack.  ''Why  do  you  not  sleep .^"  asked  an  In- 
dian. "I  have  no  desire  to  sleep  in  the  house  of 
a   stranger,"   replied    Standish.     In    the    morning. 


50  A]VIERICA  FIRST 


Standish  backed  out  of  the  house,  making  the 
Indian  follow  him  to  his  boat,  and  even  back  to 
Plymouth. 

The  Massachusetts  Indians  formed  a  plot  to  de- 
stroy all  the  Enghsh  at  Plymouth.  Massasoit  sent 
word  to  the  colonists  that,  if  they  would  save  their 
lives,  they  must  kill  the  Massachusetts  Chiefs. 
Standish,  with  eight  men,  undertook  the  niission. 
He  went  to  their  village,  and  pretended  to  trade 
for  furs.  The  trade  was  very  smooth,  for  smiling 
and  fair  words  were  spoken.  But  the  Indians 
said,  "The  Captain's  eyes  are  watchful,  and  there 
is  anger  in  his  heart." 

Then  came  a  Chief,  whetting  his  knife.  He  said 
boastfully,  "By  and  by  it  shall  see,  and  by  and 
by  it  shall  eat,  but  not  speak."  Then,  turning  to 
Standish,  he  said,  "You  are  a  great  Captain,  if 
you  are  a  httle  man.  I  am  not  a  Chief,  but  I 
have  great  strength." 

Then  Standish  gave  a  signal,  and  sprang  upon 
the  boasting  Indian.  Snatching  the  knife  from  the 
hands  of  the  astonished  savage,  he  drove  it  through 
his  heart,  laying  him  dead  on  the  floor.  The  com- 
panions of  the  Captain  made  an  onslaught  on 
the  other  Indians,  whereupon  they  all  fled  shriek- 
ing to  the  woods.  This  ended  the  combat  and 
the   conspiracy.     From  that  time   on  the  name  of 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  51 


Standish  was  enough  to  make  the  Indians  tremble 
with  fear. 

In  this  way,  Captain  Standish  kept  down  the 
Indians,  inspired  hope  and  courage  among  the 
colonists,  and  secured  peace  and  prosperity  for 
Plymouth. 

BUILDING  A   CANOE 

The  birch  bark  canoe  was  the  most  beautiful 
and  ingenious  of  all  the  Indians'  inventions.  It 
w^as  so  broad  that  it  could  float  in  shallow  streams, 
so  strong  that  it  could  shoot  dangerous  rapids,  and 
so  light  that  one  man  could  easily  carry  it  on  his 
back. 

To  make  such  a  boat  the  Indians  picked  out  a 
tall  tree,  with  thick  bark  and  with  as  few  branches 
as  possible.  This  they  would  cut  down,  care  being 
taken  to  prevent  it  falling  against  other  trees, 
thereby  hurting  the  bark.  The  bark  was  then 
spht  along  the  length  of  the  tree,  and  carefully 
peeled  off  in  pieces  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
canoe.  They  were  very  particular  not  to  have  any 
holes  in  the  bark,  which,  during  the  season  when 
the  sap  was  in  the  tree,  was  firm  and  fine. 

The  bark  was  then  spread  on  the  ground  in  a 
smooth  place,  the  inside  downwards,  and,  in  order 
to  stretch  it  better,   logs  of  wood  or  stones  were 


52  AMERICA   FIRST 


placed  on  it.  Then  the  edges  of  the  bark  were 
gently  bent  upwards  to  form  the  sides  of  the  boat. 
Some  sticks  were  fixed  into  the  ground  at  a  dis- 
tance of  three  or  four  feet  from  each  other,  form- 
ing the  curved  line  which  the  sides  of  the  boat 
were  intended  to  make.  The  bark  was  bent  to 
the  form  which  the  boat  was  to  have,  being  held 
firmly  in  position  by  the  sticks  thus  driven  into 
the  ground. 

The  ribs  of  the  boat  were  made  of  tough  hickory, 
cut  into  long,  flat  pieces,  and  bent  to  the  shape  of 
the  boat,  the  wider  ones  in  the  middle,  and  the 
narrower  ones  towards  the  ends.  "V^Tien  thus  bent 
and  tied  in  position,  the  ribs  were  placed  upon  the 
bark  about  ten  inches  apart. 

The  upper  edge  of  each  side  of  the  boat  was 
made  of  two  thin  poles,  the  boat's  length,  and 
put  close  together  with  flat  edges  to  hold  the  bark 
between.  These  long  poles,  firmly  attached  to  the 
ribs,  determined  the  shape  of  the  boat.  The  edge 
of  the  bark  was  now  inserted  between  the  poles  on 
each  side,  and  was  sewed  to  the  poles  by  means  of 
mouse-wood,  bark,  or  roots. 

The  poles  w^ere  now  sewed  together  at  the  end, 
and  the  bark  was  made  water  tight  where  it  was 
joined  by  pounded  bark  of  tlie  red  elm.  Bands 
were  placed  across  the  top  of  the  ribs  of  the  boat 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  53 


to  prevent  spreading  or  crushing  in,  and  boards 
were  laid  across  the  bottom  to  step  on.  The  boat 
was  then  ready  for  use. 

This  was  a  frail  structure,  and  had  to  be  treated 
very  tenderly.  The  sides  were  easily  torn  open  by 
rocks  and  hidden  branches  of  trees,  and,  therefore, 
the  Indian  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  danger. 
The  bottom  could  be  easily  crushed  through;  hence 
the  Indian  went  barefoot,  and  entered  the  canoe 
very  gingerly. 

But  with  such  a  canoe  three  or  four  persons 
could  easily  float,  and  in  some  of  the  war  canoes 
even  a  dozen  Indians  could  find  space.  With  long 
paddles  and  strong  arms,  the  Indians  forced  their 
craft  over  the  lakes  and  along  the  rivers  with  great 
ease  and  speed.  It  was  strong  enough  to  hold  a 
heavy  load,  so  long  as  it  did  not  strike  a  rock  or 
hidden  tree.  Such  a  boat  could  shoot  down  a 
dangerous  rapid,  if  it  was  directed  by  skillful  hands. 
T\Tien  the  Indians  wished  to  move  from  one  lake 
to  another,  they  lifted  the  canoe  out  the  water, 
strapped  it  across  the  back  of  one  man,  who  took 
it  over  the  trail  across  country  from  one  body  of 
water  to  another. 


54  a:merica  first 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  ROGER  TVTLLIAMS 

There  was  a  young  Puritan  minister,  named 
Roger  Williams,  who  lived  with  his  wife  and  two 
children  in  the  town  of  Salem,  Massachusetts.  His 
congregation  was  small,  but  his  labors,  especially 
the  comfort  he  gave  to  those  who  were  sick  or  in 
distress,  made  him  greatly  beloved. 

He  at  one  time  had  preached  at  Plymouth,  and 
had  visited  the  Xarragansett  Indians.  He  slept  in 
the  wigwams,  and  ate  the  food  of  his  Indian  friends. 
He  went  fishing  and  hunting  with  them,  and  learned 
from  them  many  secrets  of  Indian  woodcraft.  After 
awhile  he  could  speak  their  language,  and  for  hours 
would  sit  around  their  camp  fires  and  hear  them 
tell  their  stories.  In  this  way  the  Indians  became 
his  firm  friends,  and  he  thus  came  to  understand 
much  about  them  he  would  not  otherwise  have 
known. 

A\Tien  Roger  Williams  went  to  Salem  to  preach, 
he  became  very  bold  in  his  opposition  to  many  of 
the  doctrines  of  his  Puritan  brethren.  For  in- 
stance, it  was  the  Puritan  law  that  everybody  had 
to  go  to  meeting  on  Sunday,  whether  he  wished  to 
or  not.  At  the  beating  of  the  drum,  or  the  ring- 
ing of  the  bell,  or  the  sounding  of  the  horn,  every- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  O^TS  HISTORY 


body,  who  was  not  sick  in  bed,  had  to  march  out 
and  proceed  to  the  meeting-house.  In  fact  there 
was  a  captain  who  inspected  the  houses  to  see  that 
nobody  was  in  hiding. 

Roger  Wilhams  thought  this  was  wrong.  "We 
should  not  compel  people  to  go  to  church.  If  their 
own  consciences  do  not  urge  them  to  attend  wor- 
ship, let  them  stay  at  home,"  he  said. 

\Mien  the  Puritans  heard  of  this,  they  were 
greatly  shocked,  and  declared  Roger  Williams  a 
dangerous  member  of  society.  To  them  it  was  a 
great  crime  to  stay  aw^ay  from  church. 

Another  rule  of  the  Puritans  was  that  every  man 
had  to  pay  a  tax  for  the  support  of  the  Church. 
No  matter  whether  he  was  a  good  man  or  a  wicked 
one,  he  had  to  go  to  church  and  had  to  pay  for 
the  preacher. 

Roger  Wilhams  thought  this  was  wrong.  "No 
man  should  pay  for  his  religion  unless  he  Welshes 
to  do  so.  His  conscience  and  not  the  General 
Court  should  determine  the  amount,"  he  said. 

T\Tien  the  Puritans  heard  of  this  they  w^ere  still 
more  surprised  and  shocked,  for  by  this  time 
Roger  Williams  was  becoming  so  bold  that  there 
were  threats  of  sending  him  out  of  the  community. 

But  this  was  not  all,  by  any  means.  Roger 
Williams  declared,  "The  King  of  England  has  no 


56  AMERICA  FIRST 


right  to  give  away  the  lands  in  America.  They  do 
not  belong  to  him,  but  they  belong  to  the  Indians. 
The  Indians  alone  have  a  title  to  them,  and  it  is 
from  the  Indians  alone  they  can  be  bought." 

This  was  more  than  the  Puritans  could  stand. 
"It  is  dangerous  to  have  such  a  man  in  our  colony. 
He  must  be  sent  back  to  England,  or  he  will  break 
up  our  religion,"  said  the  Puritan  leaders,  and  they 
straightway  ordered  him  before  the  General  Court. 

Little  mercy  did  they  show  the  brave  minister. 
"Back  you  go  to  England  in  six  weeks,  or  else  you 
must  stop  preaching  those  dangerous  doctrines," 
was  what  they  told  him. 

"I  shall  not  go  to  England.  I  came  here  to  find 
freedom  for  my  conscience  and  here  I  find  nothing 
but  persecution.  You  are  trying  to  do  in  America 
the  very  thing  for  which  we  left  England,"  replied 
WiUiams  boldly. 

So  he  went  on  preaching  his  own  doctrines  and 
the  Puritans  decided  to  seize  him,  put  him  on 
board  a  ship,  and  send  him  to  England.  The  kind 
Governor  Winthrop  secretly  sent  him  word  that  he 
had  better  escape,  or  else  he  would  be  arrested. 

WTien  Williams  received  the  message,  he  hastily 
left  his  wife  and  children,  and,  taking  a  package  of 
food  and  a  hea\'y  cane,  committed  himself  to  the 
wilderness.     It   was    mid-winter   when   he   started. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  57 

The  ground  was  covered  with  snow,  and  he  had 
only  a  small  pocket  compass  to  guide  him  through 
the  forest.  Fearing  that  the  officers  of  the  General 
Court  would  try  to  overtake  him,  he  traveled  only 
at  night,  hiding  by  day  in  caves  or  in  the  deep 
shelter  of  the  woods. 

Thus  he  wandered  for  fourteen  weeks.  At  night 
he  built  a  fire  as  best  he  could,  and  cooked  the 
game  he  had  caught  in  the  snow.  Oftentimes  he 
had  only  acorns  to  eat.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the 
wigAvams  of  his  Indian  friends,  which  he  found 
along  his  journey,  he  w^ould  have  frozen  to  death; 
and  but  for  their  aid  he  would  long  since  have 
starved. 

At  length  he  came  to  Massasoit,  one  of  his  oldest 
friends,  ^'I  have  come  to  live  with  you.  My  white 
friends  have  cast  me  out,  and  I  am  cold,  hungry, 
and  very  tired,"  said  he  to  the  Indian  Chief. 

Massasoit  took  him  into  his  own  w^igwam,  laid 
him  down  on  a  couch  of  skins,  and  covered  him  up 
so  he  might  be  warm.  Then  Williams  slept  long, 
while  Massasoit  wondered  what  this  friend  had 
done  that  he  was  cast  out  of  Salem.  When  Wil- 
liams awoke  he  was  given  food  to  eat,  a  pipe  to 
smoke,  and  warm  clothes  to  put  on. 

WTien  Massasoit  heard  his  story  he  said,  "Stay 
here  until  the  snow  has  gone,  and  the  spring  has 


AMERICA  FIRST 


come.  They  shall  not  find  you  or  hurt  you."  So 
Williams  stayed  in  the  wigwam  of  Massasoit  until 
spring. 

By  this  time,  the  Puritans  decided  to  let  him 
alone,  provided  he  did  not  come  back  to  them. 
Hearing  this,  Williams  sent  for  his  wufe  and  chil- 
dren, and,  with  a  few  friends  who  joined  him, 
journeyed  to  Narragansett  Bay  in  the  spring.  He 
bought  some  land  from  Canonicus,  and  made  a 
settlement. 

"We  shall  call  this  place  Providence,  for  the 
Lord  has  provided  for  us,"  said  he.  And  so  it  is 
called  to  this  day. 


OLD   SILVER  LEG 

The  Dutch  took  possession  of  the  Hudson  River 
settlements,  and  for  forty  years  their  Governor 
ruled  over  the  colony  at  the  mouth  of  the  river. 
They  called  their  town.  New  Amsterdam.  Traders 
came  from  Holland  to  traflSic  with  the  Indians,  and 
to  bring  supplies  to  the  merchants  of  the  town. 
The  fat  old  burghers  sat  on  the  door-steps  of  their 
quaint  Dutch  homes,  and  smoked  their  pipes  of 
peace,  perfectly  satisfied  with  themselves  and  with 
all  the  w^orld. 

At  last  came  Peter  Stuyvesant  from  Holland  to 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  59 


govern  the  colony.  He  had  been  a  fine  soldier, 
and  had  lost  a  leg  by  fighting  in  the  West  Indies. 
He  had  a  wooden  leg,  of  which  he  was  so  proud 
that  he  had  silver  bands  put  around  it  as  orna- 
ments. He  used  to  tap  it  with  his  heavy  stick 
and  say,  ''I  value  this  old  wooden  leg  more  than 
all  my  other  limbs  put  together."  The  people 
called  him  "Old  Silver  Leg." 

Peter  was  very  high-tempered  and  obstinate.  He 
made  his  own  laws  and  had  them  obeyed;  but  they 
were  very  good  laws  and  he  was  a  just  old  gover- 
nor, even  if  he  was  cross  at  times.  He  had  a 
Council  of  nine  men,  chosen  by  himself,  but  as 
they  were  self-satisfied  and  sleepy  old  merchants, 
all  they  did  was  to  smoke  their  pipes  and  hear 
what  Stuyvesant  had  to  say. 

If  the  people  did  not  suit  him,  or  quarreled 
among  themselves,  or  disobeyed  his  laws,  the  irate 
old  man  would  berate  them  with  his  heavy  stick, 
and  storm  up  and  down  the  village  streets.  But 
as  he  was  generally  right  in  all  he  did  and  required, 
the  people  let  him  have  his  way,  however  much  he 
belabored  some  of  them  over  their  backs.  Mean- 
while, the  colony  prospered,  the  Indians  were 
friendly,  ships  came  and  went,  schools  and  churches 
were  opened,  and  the  people  were  contented  and 
happy. 


60  A^IERICA  FIRST 


And  so  the  years  went  by,  until  the  Enghsh 
settlements,  up  in  Connecticut,  began  to  worry  the 
Dutch.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  English  still 
claimed  the  land  the  Dutch  had  occupied,  because 
the  territory  had  been  explored  by  John  Cabot,  an 
Englishman,  and  because  Henry  Hudson  was  an 
Englishman,  even  if  he  did  sail  under  a  Dutch 
flag.  At  last  the  King  of  England  boldly  gave 
the  Dutch  colony  to  his  brother,  the  Duke  of 
York,  and  told  him  to  go  and  take  possession. 
This  was  not  very  just,  but  it  w^as  the  w^ay  kings 
did  things  in  those  days. 

Stuyvesant  was  in  Boston  when  he  heard  of 
those  high-handed  plans,  and  he  at  once  sent  word 
to  the  Dutch  to  prepare  for  war.  The  Council 
met  and  decided  to  build  defenses  for  their  town; 
but  as  this  cost  money  and  as  the  people  were  very 
thrifty,  and  as  the  enemy  was  not  in  sight,  the 
poor  little  city  got  no  fortifications  at  all. 

When  the  English  fleet  appeared  off  the  coast  of 
New  Amsterdam,  demanding  the  surrender  of  the 
town,  the  people  ran  to  their  houses  arid  hid  them- 
selves, praying  for  the  brave  old  Governor  to  come 
home  and  tell  them  what  to  do.  When  Stuyve- 
sant returned  from  Boston  he  was  in  a  great 
rage  because  nothing  had  been  done.  He  stormed 
and    threatened    the  Council   for   not   obeying    his 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  61 

orders,  and  he  swore  lie  would  not  surrender  his 
town. 

The  burghers  listened  with  dismay.  The  Eng- 
lish commander  had  told  them  to  surrender,  and 
they  could  Hve  peaceably  under  the  English  flag. 
Otherwise  he  would  destroy  their  town  and  drive 
them  away.  They  did  not  care  whose  flag  they 
lived  under  so  long  as  they  were  let  alone.  Eng- 
lish or  Dutch,  it  was  all  one  to  the  peace-living 
merchants  of  New  Amsterdam. 

They  showed  Stuyvesant  a  copy  of  the  sum- 
mons to  surrender.  But  he  thrust  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  told  the  Council  to  go  home;  he  would  defend 
the  colony  all  by  himself,  he  said.  The  burgo- 
masters called  a  meeting  of  the  people,  who  agreed 
to  surrender  the  town,  and  a  note  was  sent  to 
Stuyvesant  to  that  effect.  He  used  the  note  to 
light  his  pipe,  and  made  no  reply. 

Governor  Winthrop,  of  Connecticut,  wrote  him  a 
letter,  advising  him  to  surrender.  The  burgomas- 
ters came  in  a  body  to  present  this  communication. 
But  Stuyvesant  tore  it  into  bits,  threw  the  pieces 
in  the  face  of  the  nearest  man,  hit  another  over 
the  head  with  his  pipe,  and  kicked  the  rest  down 
stairs  wdth  his  wooden  leg.  ''You  are  a  pack  of 
cowards,"  he  called  after  them.  "Out  of  my  sight! 
I  have  done  with  you!" 


62  AlVIERICA  FIRST 


In  the  meantime,  the  Enghsh  had  sent  their  own 
men  among  the  Dutch,  and  had  told  them  of  the 
terrible  things  that  would  happen  to  them  if  they 
did  not  surrender.  On  the  other  hand,  they  were 
promised  they  w^ould  not  be  molested  if  they 
quietly  gave  up  their  town. 

And  so  the  Dutch,  who  loved  their  stores,  houses, 
gardens  and  cattle,  and  cared  little  for  the  Dutch 
flag,  decided  they  w^ould  surrender  anyhow.  ^Mien 
Stuyvesant  heard  of  it,  he  swore  a  great  oath,  but 
had  to  agree,  for  there  w^as  nothing  else  to  do. 

The  treaty  of  surrender  was  brought  to  him  to 
sign.  He  threw  away  the  pen  and  tore  up  the 
paper.  The  next  day  the  people  gathered  in  a 
crowd  before  his  house,  and  harangued  him  for 
three  hours.  They  put  the  treaty  on  the  end  of  a 
pole  and  thrust  it  up  to  his  window.  At  last  he 
signed  it,  threw  it  out,  and  closed  the  shutters. 
The  British  then  entered  the  city,  and  changed 
the  name  from  New  Amsterdam  to  New  York. 

Stuyvesant  retired  to  his  farm  on  Manhattan 
Island,  where  he  lived  quietly  the  rest  of  his  days, 
dying  at  the  ripe  old  age  of  eighty  years. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  63 


WILLIAM    PENN    AND    THE    QUAKERS 

Among  the  religious  sects  which  came  to  Eng- 
land about  the  time  of  the  settlement  of  America 
were  the  Quakers,  or,  as  they  called  themselves, 
''The  Society  of  Friends."  They  believed  that  no 
special  honor  should  be  paid  to  anyone,  and  that 
all  men  should  be  addressed  as  ''Friend."  They 
even  spoke  of  the  King  as  "Friend  James"  or 
"Friend  Charles."  They  would  not  take  off  their 
hats  in  the  presence  of  anyone,  not  even  the  King 
himself.  They  always  used  the  words  "thee"  and 
"thou,"  instead  of  the  word  "you"  in  speaking  to 
a  person. 

Soon  after  Charles  11  w^as  crowned  King  of  Eng- 
land, William  Penn,  who  had  become  a  Quaker, 
was  given  an  audience.  When  Penn  entered  the 
royal  room,  he  found  the  King  standing  with  his 
hat  on,  as  was  the  custom;  and  all  the  courtiers 
were  around  him  uncovered  and  vying  in  their 
efforts  to  flatter  him  and  do  him  the  most  honor. 

Penn  came  up  with  his  hat  on.  The  King  at 
once  removed  his  hat  and  bowed  very  low  to  the 
approaching  Quaker.  "Why  dost  thou  remove  thy 
hat,   Friend   Charles.^"    asked   Penn.     "Because  it 


64  rUIERICA  FIRST 


is  the  custom  of  this  Court  for  only  one  man  to 
remain  covered,"  explained  the  King,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  the  courtiers. 

The  Quaker  men  dressed  very  simply  in  drab 
or  gray  clothes,  with  broad-brimmed  hats.  The 
women  wore  gray  dresses,  w^ith  simple  w^hite  cuffs 
and  collars.  No  matter  how  rich  or  poor,  the 
Quakers  wore  costumes  that  cost  about  the  same. 
They  believed  all  men  to  be  equal,  and  an  honest 
man  who  tried  to  do  right  w^as  entitled  to  as  much 
respect  as  the  King  himself,  and  more  so,  if  the 
King  was  not  a  good  man. 

In  their  meetings  the  Quakers  had  no  music  and 
no  preaching.  The  people  came  in  and  sat  silently, 
until  someone  w^as  moved  by  the  spirit  to  speak  or 
pray.  Not  having  any  paid  preacher,  themselves, 
they  believed  no  one  should  be  paid  to  preach  the 
Gospel,  and  so  they  refused  to  pay  taxes  to  sup- 
port the  Church  of  England.  Since  the  Bible  said 
it  was  wrong  to  swear,  they  refused  to  take  an 
oath  in  the  courts  of  law,  saying  that  a  truthful 
man  did  not  have  to  swear  to  what  he  said;  if 
he  were  not  a  truthful  man  he  did  not  mind  swear- 
ing to  a  lie. 

They  did  not  believe  in  courts  of  law  and  quar- 
rels, and  they  refused  to  go  to  law  about  anything, 
but  settled  their  differences  among  themselves.    Not 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  65 


believing  in  quarrels  and  bloodshed,  they  disap- 
proved of  taking  a  part  in  war.  They  were  a 
people  of  peace,  who  believed  in  equality,  brotherly 
love,  and  simplicity  of  living. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Enghsh  Government 
made  laws  to  prevent  the  spread  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  Quakers.  These  laws  forbade  them  to  hold 
meetings.  Many  of  the  Quakers  were  thrown  into 
prison  and  fined,  some  were  publicly  flogged,  and 
all  were  hooted  at  and  sometimes  stoned  upon  the 
pubUc  streets.  But  the  Quakers  made  no  protest, 
and  endured  all  these  persecutions  with  true  Chris- 
tian spirit. 

The  Quakers  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
young  man,  WilHam  Penn.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
famous  English  Admiral,  Sir  William  Penn.  When 
the  boy  was  fifteen  years  old,  he  was  sent  to  Ox- 
ford University,  where  he  met  a  Quaker  who  had 
great  influence  over  him.  At  that  time  the  stu- 
dents were  required  to  wear  long  black  gowns. 
Penn  and  some  of  the  other  younger  men  refused 
to  wear  these  gowns,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
tear  them  off  of  some  of  their  fellow  students.. 
For  this  he  and  his  friends  were  expelled  from 
College. 

His  father  was  very  angry,    and  sent  William  to 
Paris  to  indulge  in  the  gay  hfe  of  that  city,  hoping 


66  AINIERICA   FIRST 


it  would  divert  his  mind.  After  two  years,  how- 
ever, the  young  man  returned  to  England  un- 
changed in  mind,  and  openly  joined  the  Society 
of  Friends.  It  was  then  that  he  began  to  preach 
their  doctrines.  For  this  his  father  disowned  him, 
and  the  King  ordered  him  thrown  into  prison. 

\Miile  in  prison  he  wrote  many  books  and  pam- 
phlets on  religious  subjects,  and  sternly  refused  to 
change  his  faith.  \ATien  he  was  released,  he  and 
his  father  were  reconciled,  just  a  short  while  before 
the  old  Admiral  died,  leaving  William  Penn  his 
estate. 

Penn  now  found  himself  a  wealthy  young  man, 
and  resolved  to  carry  out  his  plan  of  founding  a 
colony  in  America  for  the  persecuted  Quakers.  It 
seems  that  the  King  owed  Penn's  father  a  lot  of 
money  he  had  borrowed  from  him.  Penn  proposed 
to  the  King  to  cancel  the  debt  by  receiving  a  grant 
of  land  in  America.  This  was  easy  for  the  King 
to  do,  for  it  cost  him  nothing,  and  was  a  good 
way  to  get  rid  of  the  debt. 

The  King  said  to  Penn,  *'I  shall  never  see  you 
again,  William,  for  the  Indians  will  boil  you  in 
their  kettle." 

"Nay,  nay,  Friend  Charles,"  replied  Penn,  "I 
shall  be  friends  with  the  savages,  and  pay  them 
for  their  lands." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  67 

The  King  was  astonished,  and  asked  Penn  why- 
he  intended  to  buy  lands  that  were  the  King's  by 
right  of  discovery. 

"Discovery!"  exclaimed  Penn.  "Suppose  a 
canoe  full  of  savages  had  landed  in  England, 
would  they  own  this  kingdom  by  right  of  dis- 
covery?" To  such  a  question  the  King  made  no 
reply. 

Penn  wanted  his  grant  named  "Sylvania,"  which 
means  woodland.  But  the  King  would  add  "Penn" 
to  the  name  in  honor  of  the  old  Admiral,  his 
friend.  And  so  the  future  colony  of  the  Quakers 
came  to  be  called  "Pennsylvania." 


THE   CHARTER  OAK 

\Yhen  James  II  became  King  of  England,  he 
made  a  determined  effort  to  overthrow  the  liberties 
of  the  American  colonies.  He  was  a  bigoted 
tyrant,  w^ho  tried  to  work  hardships  upon  his  own 
people  in  England,  and  to  discipline  the  colonists 
abroad.  His  idea  was  to  take  away  the  charters 
of  the  New  England  colonies,  with  all  the  rights 
granted  them  by  former  kings,  and  to  make  them 
submit  to  the  arbitrary  rule  of  governors  whom  he 
should    appoint.     Sometimes    it    seemed    that    the 


68  AMERICA  FIRST 


kings  of  England  did  everything  they  could  to 
destroy  the  affection  of  the  people  of  America. 

King  James  sent  one  of  his  adherents,  Sir  Ed- 
mund Andros,  to  New  England  to  be  Governor- 
general  of  those  colonies,  with  authority  to  take 
away  their  charters  and  to  rule  them  according  to 
his  own  and  the  King's  will.  Some  of  the  colonies 
submitted,  but  those  of  Connecticut  absolutely  re- 
fused to  surrender  the  precious  document.  Andros 
lived  in  Boston  in  the  most  arrogant  style,  and  for 
a  w^hile  Connecticut  was  left  undisturbed. 

After  nearly  a  year  had  passed,  and  the  charter 
of  Connecticut  still  remained  unsurrendered,  An- 
dros resolved  to  go  after  it.  Therefore  he  made 
his  appearance  in  Hartford  with  a  body-guard  of 
sixty  soldiers,  and  marched  up  to  the  Chamber 
w^here  the  Assembly  was  in  session,  declaring 
boldly,  "I  have  come  by  the  King's  command  to 
order  you  to  surrender  the  charter  of  Connecticut. 
I  am  henceforth  to  be  the  Governor  of  this  colony, 
and  to  give  you  such  laws  as  it  pleases  the  King  to 
grant.  You  will  at  once  place  the  charter  in  my  hands. 
It  is  the  will  of  His  Majesty,  King  James  H." 

Now,  the  charter  allowed  the  people  of  Connec- 
ticut to  elect  their  own  Governor,  and  to  have 
their  own  Assembly,  and  to  make  their  own  laws. 
Consequently,  they  did  not  wish  to  surrender  it. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  69 

Nor  were  they  willing  to  displease  the  King  if  it 
could  be  avoided.  Therefore  they  showed  much 
respect  to  the  blustering  Andros,  and  began  to 
explain,  entering  upon  a  long  and  cahn  debate  of 
why  they  could  not  place  the  charter  in  his  hands. 

Governor  Treat,  who  w^as  presiding,  addressed 
Andros  with  respect  and  remonstrance.     He  said: 

''Sir,  the  people  of  this  country  have  been  at 
great  expense  and  hardship  in  planting  this  colony. 
Their  blood  and  treasure  have  been  freely  poured 
out  in  defending  it  against  savages  and  all  others 
who  tried  to  drive  them  from  their  possessions. 
We  came  here  by  consent  of  the  King,  and  His 
Majesty,  Charles  II.,  the  brother  of  our  most  gra- 
cious King,  granted  us  our  liberties  only  fifteen 
years  ago  in  a  charter  which  we  greatly  prize.  We 
beg  you,  therefore,  to  represent  to  the  King  that 
we  are  his  loyal  subjects  and  will  remain  faithful 
to  him,  but  we  earnestly  desire  to  keep  in  our 
possession  the  rights  and  privileges  granted  us." 

Thus  the  Governor  spoke  at  great  length,  while 
Andros  grew  more  and  more  impatient.  He  had 
not  come  to  hear  arguments;  he  had  come  to  get 
the  charter,  and  words  were  w^asted  on  him.  Night 
was  drawing  on,  and  still  the  members  spoke,  as  if 
they  would  wear  out  the  tyrant  with  their  argu- 
ment.    At  length  Andros  thundered  forth. 


70  a:vierica  first 


"No  more  of  this;  I  am  weary  of  your  words. 
Bring  in  the  charter,  or  I  shall  arrest  the  Assembly." 

Reluctantly,  the  box  containing  the  charter  was 
brought  in  and  laid  on  the  table.  Candles  were 
lighted  and  placed  beside  it  so  that  it  could  be 
seen.  It  was  opened,  exposing  to  view  the  docu- 
ment the  tyrant  sought.  Andros  rose  from  his  seat 
and  advanced  to  the  table  to  seize  the  precious 
papers,  and  thus  end  the  whole  matter,  when  sud- 
denly someone  threw  a  cloak  upon  the  candles, 
completely  extinguishing  them,  and  leaving  the 
room  in  darkness. 

Amidst  the  confusion  there  was  a  sound  of 
papers  being  rolled  and  of  feet  rushing  from  the 
hall.  AMien  the  candles  were  re-lighted  the  charter 
had  disappeared.  It  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  and 
to  all  the  threats  and  ravings  of  Andros  the  mem- 
bers returned  a  blank  stare.  No  one  knew  what 
had  become  of  it.  It  had  disappeared  as  com- 
pletely as  if  it  had  sunk  into  the  earth. 

What  had  happened.^  In  the  Chamber,  a  brave 
young  militiaman.  Captain  Joseph  Wadsworth,  had 
thrown  his  cloak  over  the  candles.  He  had  then 
made  a  rush  for  the  table,  seized  the  charter  and 
leaped  out  of  a  window.  To  the  crowd  assembled 
without  he  cried:  "Make  way  for  me.  I  have  the 
charter,    and    it    shall    not    be    surrendered    to    a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  71 

tyrant."  The  crowd  cheered,  and  let  him  through. 
He  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  just  as  the  candles 
were  being  re-lighted  inside  the  Chamber  and  An- 
dros  was  raving  in  his  disappointment. 

Wads  worth  sped  onward,  looking  for  a  safe 
place  in  which  to  conceal  the  document.  He  came 
to  a  great  oak  tree,  standing  in  front  of  the  house 
of  one  of  the  colonial  magistrates.  There  was  a 
hollow  in  the  tree,  ample  inside,  but  with  an  open- 
ing not  larger  than  a  man's  hand.  Into  this 
Wadsworth  thrust  the  charter,  and  concealed  the 
opening  with  leaves  and  rubbish. 

"Now,  let  Sir  Edmund  rave!"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "This  oak  will  keep  its  secret."  And  so  the 
oak  did.  It  became  known  as  "The  Charter  Oak." 
It  stood  the  storms  of  many  winters,  and  was 
pointed  out,  for  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine  years 
afterwards,  as  the  place  of  refuge  of  the  Connecti- 
cut charter.  A  tempest  felled  it  to  the  ground  in 
1856. 

As  for  Andros,  he  assumed  control  of  Connecti- 
cut, charter  or  no  charter,  and  ruled  for  a  short 
while  with  an  iron  hand.  The  next  year,  however, 
the  royal  tyrant  of  England  was  driven  from  his 
throne,  and  Andros  lost  his  power.  He  was  thrown 
into  prison  in  Boston,  and  shipped  back  to  Eng- 
land.    Then  the  precious  charter  was  brought  out 


72  MIERICA  FIRST 


of  its  hiding-place  by  Wadsworth  and  a  few  others, 
who  knew  where  it  was,  and  Connecticut  again  had 
her  rights  and  hberty. 


BLOODY  ]\IARSH 

TVTien  Georgia  was  settled  by  an  English  colony 
under  Oglethorpe,  and  the  town  of  Savannah  was 
begun,  the  enterprise  was  met  with  protest  from 
the  Spaniards  in  Florida,  because  Spain  claimed  all 
the  territory  of  America,  clear  to  the  Arctic  Ocean. 
She  had  founded  only  one  colony,  that  of  St. 
Augustine,  in  Florida,  but  still  she  claimed  the 
w^hole  land. 

Ten  years  after  Georgia  was  settled,  the  Span- 
iards resolved  to  wipe  out  the  colony,  then  march 
to  Charleston,  and  so  on  as  far  north  as  possible. 
We  shall  see  that  they  did  not  get  very  far. 

A  great  fleet  of  thirty -six  ships,  with  five  thou- 
sand men  on  board,  appeared  off  the  coast  of  St. 
Simon's  Island  in  Georgia.  The  Spaniards  raised 
the  red  flag  of  war  and  landed  their  troops  on  the 
southern  end  of  the  island.  Oglethorpe  had  hastily 
collected  all  the  men  he  could,  but  at  best  he  had 
only  six  hundred  and  fifty  to  oppose  the  great 
army  confronting  him. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  73 

Oglethorpe  posted  his  scouts,  and  awaited  the 
coming  of  the  Spanish  forces.  He  was  determined 
to  make  his  httle  army  check  the  advance  of  the 
enemy  as  long  as  he  could.  One  day  a  scout  came 
into  camp,  and  announced  that  the  Spaniards  were 
within  two  miles  of  Oglethorpe's  camp.  The  Gen- 
eral hastily  called  for  a  body  of  his  own  troops, 
skirted  through  the  woods,  and  fell  upon  the 
advance  forces  with  such  fury  that  they  were 
nearly  all  killed  or  captured.  Oglethorpe  took  two 
prisoners  with  his  own  hands. 

"That  is  a  good  beginning,"  he  said  to  one  of 
his  captains.  "Now^  for  "the  rest,  before  they  can 
rally.  We  will  lie  in  ambush  for  them."  And  so 
he  did,  along  the  road  by  which  the  Spaniards  had 
to  march. 

Before  long  the  enemy  came  in  sight,  halted  in 
the  defile  where  the  ambush  was,  and  stacked  their 
guns.  Some  began  to  cook,  while  others  lay  dow^n 
to  rest,  for  it  was  July  and  the  day  was  very  hot. 
One  of  their  horses  noticed  a  strange  uniform  in 
the  bushes,  and  by  rearing  and  pitching  gave  the 
alarm.  The  Spaniards  sprang  to  their  guns,  but  it 
was  too  late.  A  deadly  fire  poured  into  them  from 
an  unseen  foe,  —  how  many  or  how  few  they  did 
not  knowM  They  fled  in  all  directions,  but  were 
met  by  the  baj^onet  of  the  English  soldier  and  the 


74  AI^IERICA  FIRST 


scalping  knife  of  the  Indian.  The  ground  was 
covered  with  their  dead.  Because  of  this  victory 
and  the  great  slaughter  of  the  Spaniards,  the  place 
has  ever  since  been  called  "Bloody  Marsh." 

The  defeat  drove  back  the  advance  force,  but 
there  was  still  the  main  body  to  be  accounted  for. 
Oglethorpe  resolved  to  surprise  it  by  night.  He 
knew  these  soldiers  were  not  accustomed  to  Indian 
warfare,  or  to  fighting  in  the  tangled  forests,  and 
he  was  trying  to  demoralize  them  with  fear  before 
they  could  attack  his  small  army. 

He  advanced  within  a  mile  of  their  camp,  late  in 
the  night,  and  was  making  ready  to  attack,  when 
one  of  his  soldiers,  a  Frenchman,  fired  off  his  gun 
and  ran  into  the  Spanish  lines.  He  was  a  deserter, 
and  had  fled  to  the  enemy  to  give  the  alarm. 
Oglethorpe  hastily  retreated  to  save  his  httle  army. 

He  knew^  the  deserter  would  tell  the  enemy  of 
his  real  strength,  and  he  at  once  devised  a  plan 
to  thwart  this  purpose.  He  wrote  a  letter  in 
French,  urging  this  man  by  all  means  to  persuade 
the  Spaniards  to  attack,  to  speak  of  the  smallness 
of  his  forces  and  the  exposure  of  his  position.  He 
must  not,  however,  mention  the  reinforcements 
which  had  arrived,  but  must  induce  the  Spaniards 
to  stay  on  the  island  so  Oglethorpe  could  attack 
them  in  a  few  days. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  75 

Of  course  this  was  a  decoy  letter.  He  handed  it 
to  a  Spanish  prisoner,  and  said  to  him,  "Take  this 
letter  to  the  man  whose  name  is  on  it.  He  is  a 
friend  of  mine  in  the  Spanish  camp.  Say  nothing 
about  it  to  any  one,  and  I  will  give  you  your 
liberty." 

The  man  agreed,  was  handed  the  letter,  and  was 
set  free.  The  deserter  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket, 
where  it  was  found  by  the  Spanish  Commander, 
when  he  ordered  the  deserter  examined.  The  Com- 
mander read  the  letter  with  alarm,  and  was  at  a 
loss  to  know  what  to  do.  He  called  a  council  of 
his  officers  and  laid  the  facts  before  them  He 
said,  "This  deserter  is  a  spy  in  our  camp,  and  this 
letter  is  the  opposite  of  the  truth.  I  believe  the 
English  are  on  us  in  great  force."  Thereupon  he 
ordered  his  great  army  to  get  on  their  ships  and 
sail  away.  It  was  a  very  cowardly  thing  to  do, 
but  the  Spaniards  were  not  very  anxious  to  fight 
any  way,  and,  besides,  they  were  frightened  at 
what  might  happen. 

Thus  did  General  Oglethorpe,  with  a  few  hun- 
dred men,  outwit  a  force  nearly  ten  times  as  large 
as  his,  and  save  the  southern  colonies  from  inva- 
sion by  the  Spaniards. 


76  AMERICA  FIRST 


THE  SA\T[NG  OF  HADLEY 

King  Philip's  War  was  raging.  Hundreds  of  the 
people  of  New  England  had  fallen  victims  to  the 
fury  of  the  savages.  Whole  villages  had  perished, 
their  inhabitants  being  slain  or  carried  away  as 
captives.  The  country  was  in  a  state  of  terror, 
for  Philip  was  a  ruthless  foe,  and  the  war-whoop 
of  his  followers  meant  death  by  tomahawk  or 
fire-brand. 

The  whites  w^ere  ever  on  the  lookout.  The 
farmer  took  his  gun  with  him  to  the  fields,  and 
listened  always  for  the  sound  of  alarm  from  his 
cabin.  The  churches  were  guarded  like  forts,  and 
men  prayed  with  musket  in  hand.  By  night  the 
villages  slept  with  a  watch  posted  at  every  avenue 
of  approach.  Despite  all  this,  the  dusky  savage 
ghded  upon  his  foe  undetected,  and  generally  left 
behind  him  a  havoc  of  smoking  ruins  and  dead 
bodies. 

Hadley,  Massachusetts,  was  a  frontier  town  at 
this  time,  1676.  It  was  on  the  northwestern  edge 
of  white  settlements,  and  beyond  were  the  forests 
full  of  deadly  Narragansetts.  One  day,  in  the 
midst  of  summer,  the  people  were  gathered  at 
church,  engaged  in  divine  worship.     The  hour  had 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  77 

been  set  apart  for  fasting  and  prayer,  that  the 
land  might  be  deHvered  from  the  scourge  of  war- 
fare. As  the  people  prayed,  the  men  clutched  their 
muskets  and  the  women  cowered  in  dread. 

Precaution  was  well  taken.  In  the  midst  of 
their  devotions  yells  smote  upon  their  ears.  The 
Indians  had  crept  through  the  bushes  and,  under 
cover  of  the  forests,  had  passed  the  guards  and 
w^ere  upon  the  people  before  they  knew  of  their 
danger.  The  men  ceased  their  prayers  and  grabbed 
their  guns.  Hurrying  out,  they  found  the  foe  in 
the  streets  of  the  village,  filling  the  air  with  ter- 
rible cries  of  ferocious  triumph. 

Confusion  and  terror  reigned  among  the  inhabit- 
ants. On  all  sides  the  Indians  were  beginning 
their  deadly  work.  The  suddenness  of  the  attack 
prevented  the  villagers  from  getting  ready  with 
their  usual  vigor,  and  it  seemed  that  a  panic 
would  ensue,  and  everybody  would  be  slain  or  cap- 
tured. Hadley  then  would  be  one  more  of  the 
towns  wiped  out  by  the  Indians! 

Just  at  the  critical  moment,  a  strange  man  ap- 
peared among  them.  He  was  tall  and  stately, 
with  long  white  hair,  and  dressed  in  the  old- 
fashioned  style  of  England.  His  face  glowed  with 
determination,  his  manner  gave  confidence,  and  his 
voice  inspired  the  people  to  resistance. 


78  A^IERICA  FIRST 


"Here,  get  into  line  and  order  at  once!  The 
women  and  children  must  retire  to  the  church! 
Come  on,  men,  with  me!  Ready,  march."  He 
gave  orders  in  a  quick  fashion,  and  the  men,  with- 
out question,  obeyed  at  once.  It  seemed  to  them 
that  God  had  sent  an  angel  to  dehver  them  from 
their  trouble. 

Inspired  by  the  thought  that  God  had  answered 
the  prayers  which,  only  a  short  while  before,  they 
had  offered  up,  and  firm  in  the  belief  that  an  angel 
led  them,  they  shouted  with  one  voice,  "Lead  on! 
We  follow  to  the  last  man."  Their  shout  of  de- 
termination matched  the  war  cry  of  the  Narragan- 
setts  themselves. 

With  remarkable  vigor  for  an  aged  man,  the 
stranger  led  the  attack.  The  men  of  Hadley  fol- 
lowed closely,  and  pressed  vigorously  upon  the 
ranks  of  the  Indians.  Seeing  the  sudden  vision  of 
a  white-haired  figure  in  a  strange  dress,  the  In- 
dians were  dismayed,  and  began  to  waver. 

"Make  ready!  Fire!"  cried  the  leader,  and 
raised  his  stick.  The  men  of  Hadley  sent  volley 
after  volley  into  the  terrified  enemy,  who  turned 
and  fled  to  the  forest,  pursued  by  the  whites  until 
they  were  completely  out  of  sight.  They  then  re- 
turned to  the  town  to  thank  their  savior  who  had 
led  them  successfully  through  this  dreadful  disaster. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  79 


He  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  He  had  mys- 
teriousty  disappeared  —  even  as  mysteriously  as  he 
had  come,  and  from  that  time  on  no  man  in  Had- 
ley  ever  saw  him  again,  except  the  minister  himself, 
the  only  one  in  all  the  town  who  knew  anything 
about  him. 

To  solve  the  mystery  we  must  go  back  to  Eng- 
land, to  1649,  the  year  in  which  Charles  I.  was 
executed.  To  his  death-w^arrant  there  were  signed 
the  names  of  fifty -nine  judges.  After  a  number  of 
years  his  son,  Charles  II.,  mounted  the  throne  and 
swore  he  would  behead  everybody  who  had  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  murder  of  his  father.  As 
a  result,  many  of  the  judges  paid  the  death  penalty. 

We  have  only  to  do  w  ith  two  of  them  —  Whalley 
and  Goffe  —  who,  when  they  saw  the  fate  that 
awaited  them  in  England,  fled  to  America  and 
landed  in  Boston  about  thirteen  years  before  the 
incidents  occurred  which  are  the  chief  interest  of 
this  story.  Here  they  hoped  to  live  in  peace. 
But  word  came  that  they  were  wanted  in  England, 
so  they  moved  to  New  Haven  to  escape  capture 
at  the  hands  of  the  King's  men.  The  King  had 
sent  royal  messengers  to  America  to  find  and 
arrest  the  regicides,  as  they  were  called.  He  was 
resolved  to  put  them  to  death. 

These  messengers  found  nothing  but  trouble  in 


80  AMERICA  FIRST 


their  path.  The  people,  who  knew  Whalley  and 
Goffe  very  well,  would  give  no  information  what- 
soever to  the  King's  agents,  but  passed  the  two 
judges  on  from  town  to  town,  hiding  them  in 
cellars  or  attics,  and  even  in  caves  in  the  woods, 
that  they  might  escape.  They  lived  for  months, 
sometimes  even  years,  in  the  houses  of  friends,  and 
only  a  few  people  would  know  when  they  were  in 
the  village.  At  one  time  the  royal  pursuers  passed 
over  a  bridge,  while  Whalley  and  Goffe  were  lying 
beneath  it,  only  an  arm's  length  from  the  horses' 
feet! 

Once  they  dwelt  in  a  cave,  their  food  supplied 
by  the  people  of  a  neighboring  village,  when  the 
Indians  found  their  retreat.  The  poor  fugitives 
feared  the  savages  would  betray  them,  so  they 
hastened  to  find  a  new^  place  of  shelter.  They 
made  their  way  to  Hadley,  aided  by  many  friends 
and  traveling  only  by  night.  Here  they  were  re- 
ceived by  the  minister  of  the  village  and  given  a 
refuge  in  his  house.  For  twelve  years,  they  lived 
comfortably  here,  never  venturing  outside,  their 
presence  quite  unsuspected  by  the  villagers.  It 
was  not  until  the  Indians  attacked  the  village  that 
one  of  them,  Goffe,  showed  himself,  and  in  the 
manner  we  have  described! 

After  the  attack  was  over,  the  mysterious  leader 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  81 

disappeared  from  view  and  from  history.  What 
became  of  him  and  his  companion  will  forever  re- 
main one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  romantic  period 
in  our  history  when  this  country  was  very  young. 


SIR  \MLLIAM  PHIPS  AND  THE 
TREASURE  SHIP 

This  is  the  story  of  a  poor  boy  w^ho  lived  on  a 
miserable  plantation  on  the  Kennebec  River,  in 
New  England,  yet  w^ho  ended  by  becoming  a  noble- 
man of  Old  England.  His  name  was  William 
Phips,  and  he  had  twenty  brothers  and  five  sisters. 
In  his  early  life  he  tended  sheep,  and  learned  the 
trade  of  a  ship  carpenter.  He  then  went  to  Bos- 
ton, where  he  learned  to  read  and  write  and,  later 
on,  married  a  good  wife.  He  settled  down  to  hard 
work,  and  after  ten  years  became  Captain  of  one 
of  the  King's  ships.  Little  did  he  know  he  was 
about  to  face  the  great  adventure  of  his  life,  as  we 
shall  see. 

These  were  the  days  when  Spanish  ships  were 
seeking  silver  and  gold  and  precious  stones  on  the 
coast  of  Peru;  when  they  were  carrying  their  car- 
goes back  to  the  old  country,  if  they  were  fortu- 
nate enough  to  escape  the  pirates!     Some  of  these 


82  AMERICA  FIRST 


cargoes  went  to  the  bottom  in  storms,  or  ran  foul 
on  dangerous  reefs.  Many  were  the  stories  of 
precious  wrecks  along  the  shores  of  the  Bahamas. 

On  one  of  his  trips  to  the  Bahamas,  Phips  heard 
of  a  Spanish  wreck  "wherein  was  left  a  mighty 
treasure"  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  He  made  up 
his  mind  to  be  the  discoverer  of  that  ship  and  to 
recover  that  treasure,  if  it  was  possible.  Many  a 
man  would  have  laughed  at  the  story,  or  would 
have  hesitated  over  the  task;  but  Phips  was  not 
like  other  men.  He  was  born  for  great  adventure, 
and  herein  he  saw  his  chance. 

Forthwith  he  sailed  for  England,  and  sought  the 
wealthy  people  of  the  realm.  He  was  a  comely 
man,  full  of  honesty  and  sincerity,  and  Royalty 
at  Court  listened  to  his  smooth  words  with  ap- 
parent confidence.  For  he  came  back  to  New 
England,  Captain  of  his  King's  ship,  and  with  full 
power  to  search  the  seas  for  silver  and  gold  in 
sunken  cargoes. 

Phips's  task  was  not  an  easy  one.  Fifty  years 
had  passed  since  the  particular  ship  of  which  he 
had  heard  had  sunk;  hence  the  exact  spot  was 
not  easy  to  find.  All  that  was  known  was  that  it 
was  somewhere  near  the  Bahamas.  But  men  have 
ventured  in  search  of  gold  on  far  less  certainty 
than  this,  and  Phips  was  not  one  to  be  dismayed. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  83 

He  took  his  crew  to  the  Bahamas,  and  began  his 
long  and  discouraging  search.  He  dredged  here 
and  there;  he  questioned  the  old  inhabitants  along 
every  coast;  he  used  every  means  of  information 
and  discovery.     But  without  success. 

At  length  his  crew  grew  mutinous.  They  wanted 
to  turn  pirates,  and  to  set  sail  for  the  South  Seas. 
Accordingly,  one  day  they  rose,  and  marched  with 
drawn  sw^ords  to  the  Captain,  saying,  "We  will 
have  no  more  of  this.  Take  us  to  more  profitable 
waters  under  the  black  flag,  or  we  will  heave  you 
overboard.  We  will  be  pirates  henceforth,  and  will 
not  search  the  bottom  of  the  sea  for  ships,  when 
there  are  plenty  to  be  found  on  top  of  it." 

Phips  w^as  aghast  at  this  mutiny,  and,  besides, 
he  was  unarmed  and  helpless.  Still  he  w^as  by  far 
the  most  powerful  man  on  board,  and  w^as  terrible 
in  his  WTath.  Slowly  he  approached  the  ring- 
leader, as  if  to  parley  with  him.  Then,  with  bare 
hands,  he  leaped  upon  him,  knocked  him  down, 
seized  his  cutlass,  and  attacked  the  others  with 
fury.  So  impetuous  was  the  onset  that  in  a  short 
time  the  deck  w^as  strewn  with  wounded  men, 
while  many  others  fled  in  dismay,  begging  mercy 
of  the  infuriated  Captain. 

Soon  after  the  mutiny,  Phips  sailed  back  to 
Jamaica  in  order  to  get  a  new  crew,  more  disposed 


84  AMERICA  FIRST 


to  do  as  they  were  told.  The  treasure-ship  must 
be  somewhere,  and  its  riches  haunted  him  day  and 
night.  He  sailed  to  Hispaniola  in  search  of  infor- 
mation. He  met  a  very  old  Spaniard  who  said  he 
knew  where  the  ship  was  sunk,  and  who  told  of 
the  spot  on  a  reef  of  shoals,  a  few  leagues  from 
Hispaniola,  and  not  far  from  Port  de  la  Plata 
which  w^as  so  named  because  of  a  boat-load  of 
sailors  who  landed  there  with  plate  saved  from  the 
sinking  vessel. 

This  was  enough  for  our  hero.  He  needed  more 
men  and  more  money,  so  he  bravely  returned  to 
England  to  beg  for  both.  He  had  a  hard  time  to 
convince  any  one  of  his  story,  but  Phips  was  very 
plausible  and  the  account  of  how  he  quelled  the 
mutiny  on  his  vessel  w^on  him  many  admirers. 
Such  was  not  an  easy  task  in  those  days  of  ad- 
venture. How^ever,  it  was  not  long  before  Captain 
Phips  found  himself  headed  for  the  lost  treasure  on 
the  quarter-deck  of  a  new  ship,  well  manned  and 
equipped. 

He  reached  Port  de  la  Plata  in  due  time.  It 
was  now  about  1685.  He  set  about  getting  ready 
a  great  canoe,  hollowed  out  of  the  trunk  of  an 
enormous  tree.  The  point  selected  by  him  for 
search  was  a  terrible  reef,  known  as  "The  Boilers," 
where    the    sea   foamed    over    a    sloping    reef  —  no 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  85 

man  knew  how  deep.  Phips  anchored  his  ship  near 
the  perilous  spot,  made  ready  his  divers  and  his 
diving-bell,  got  out  the  canoe,  and  set  to  work 
with  a  slow  and  steady  resolve  to  see  the  under- 
taking through  or  else  perish. 

Days  passed  in  vain  search.  The  weather  w^as 
calm  and  the  ship's  supplies  were  abundant.  The 
men  did  not  complain,  but  dived  down,  along  the 
reef,  looking  everywhere  for  signs  of  a  lost  vessel. 
One  day  a  boatman,  gazing  into  the  clear  water, 
saw%  growing  out  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  rock, 
what  he  thought  w^as  a  beautiful  sea  feather,  usually 
to  be  found  in  sea  gardens.  So  an  Indian  diver 
went  down  after  it  and  brought  it  up  in  his  hands. 

''That  was  not  a  rock,  but  a  great  gun  you  saw," 
said  the  diver  to  his  companions  in  the  boat. 

''What  do  you  say?  Gun!  Gun!"  they  cried. 
"It  must  be  what  we  are  seeking!  On  board,  all 
you  divers!"  There  was  intense  excitement  in  the 
canoe. 

Other  Indians  w^ere  sent  down,  and  one  of  them 
came  back  with  a  lump  of  silver  in  his  hands.  It 
was  a  bar  worth  a  thousand  dollars.  "I  found  it 
near  the  gun.  There  are  other  guns  and  other 
lumps  like  it,  —  many,  many!"  he  explained,  his 
eyes  almost  starting  from  their  sockets. 

The  sailors  roared  with  joy.     At  last  the  place 


86  AMERICA  FIRST 


was  found!  Their  search  was  over!  They  were 
masters  of  the  silver-ship!  Riches  untold  were  in 
their  possession!  They  marked  the  spot  with  a 
buoy,  and  rowed  back  to  the  ship  to  inform  Phips 
of  what  they  had  found  and  to  show  him  the  bar 
of  silver. 

"Thanks  be  to  God,  our  fortunes  are  made," 
cried  the  Captain,  and  at  once  repaired  with  his 
men  to  the  spot  marked  by  the  buoy. 

There  was  no  indifference  now  on  the  part  of 
the  crew.  Every  diver  went  down  and  every  sailor 
lent  a  hand.  Bar  after  bar  was  brought  up  from 
the  ocean's  depths,  and  stored  away,  as  well  as 
cases  of  silver  coin,  gold  in  large  quantities,  to- 
gether with  pearls  and  precious  stones.  Never  was 
there  such  treasure  dug  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean,  where  it  had  lain  for  half  a  century.  It 
was  worth  a  million  and  a  half  dollars.  The  work 
continued  until  provisions  were  exhausted  and  the 
men  were  ill.  Though  the  sunken  ship  held  more, 
they  had  to  leave  it  where  it  was.  Phips  sailed  to 
England  and  showed  his  treasures  to  the  King,  and 
to  his  friends.  He  was  the  most  honest  and  gener- 
ous man  of  his  day,  and  paid  his  crew  liberally. 
He  gave  his  patrons  a  large  share  of  his  fortune, 
and  his  employees  had  nought  to  complain  of. 
WTiat  remained  to  him  after  this  still  left  him  a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  0^^N  HISTORY  87 

very  rich  man,   and  for  a  time  lie  was   the  most 
talked  of  man  in  England. 

As  for  the  King,  he  was  so  well  pleased  with 
the  adventure,  and  with  the  admirable  manners  of 
Phips,  that  he  made  the  latter  a  knight,  which 
meant  that  he  was  called  ''Sir  Wilham"  from  that 
time  on.  x\nd  this  is  the  story  of  how  a  plain 
country  boy  of  New  England  came,  through  his 
manly  qualities  and  his  love  of  adventure,  to  belong 
to  the  aristocracy  of  England. 


HANNAH  DUSTIN 

During  the  time  of  King  William's  War,  there 
lived,  near  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  a  man  named 
Thomas  Dustin,  and  his  w^ife,  Hannah.  They  had 
built  a  home,  and  had  a  small  family  of  children, 
among  whom  was  a  little  baby.  One  day,  Mr. 
Dustin  left  his  wife  and  baby^  in  the  house,  and, 
wuth  his  other  children,  was  cutting  wood  some 
distance  away.  Possibly  he  was  clearing  ground 
for  the  planting  of  a  new  crop,  for  it  was  early 
spring,  and  the  weather  was  good. 

The  Indians  had  not  been  giving  them  much 
trouble  of  late,  and  Mr.  Dustin  did  not  think  it 
dangerous    to   leave   his    wife    and    baby   with   the 


88  AMERICA   FIRST 


nurse  for  a  while.  But,  alas,  the  Indians  were 
watching  him,  and,  at  a  favorable  moment,  burst 
from  the  forest  near  by,  rushed  upon  the  house, 
slew  the  little  baby  and  carried  Mrs.  Dustin  and 
the  nurse  ofiF  into  the  woods! 

Mr.  Dustin  heard  the  awful  yells  of  the  savages, 
and  flew  to  the  rescue  of  his  wife  and  child.  But 
it  was  too  late!  The  party  had  been  sw^allowed  up 
in  the  forest,  and,  as  the  Indians  leave  no  trail, 
the  heart-broken  man  gave  his  loved  ones  up  for 
lost. 

For  fifteen  days  the  Indians  forced  Mrs.  Dustin 
and  the  nurse  to  trudge  with  them  through  the 
forest.  There  was  still  some  snow  and  ice  in 
places,  and  neither  woman  was  clad  for  such  a 
journey.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Dustin  had  but  one  shoe, 
and  traveled  over  a  hundred  miles,  thus  partly 
barefoot.  They  endured  great  hardships  by  day, 
and,  at  night,  were  so  closely  guarded  by  two  In- 
dians that  there  was  no  chance  of  escape.  At  last, 
they  came  to  a  place,  now  known  as  Dustin  Island, 
where  they  found  other  white  captives,  —  two  men, 
one  woman,  and  seven  children.  There  was  also  a 
young  boy,  who  had  been  held  for  over  a  year. 

Mrs.  Dustin  gathered  from  what  the  Indians 
said  that  it  was  their  intention  to  make  their 
prisoners   "run  the   gauntlet,"   when  they  reached 


For  fifteen  days  the  Indians  required  Mrs.  Dustm  and 
the  nurse  to  trudge  with  them  through  the  woods." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  89 

their  final  destination.  By  ''running  the  gauntlet" 
was  meant  that  a  prisoner  was  stripped  to  the 
waist  and  made  to  run  between  two  files  of  In- 
dians who  beat  him  with  clubs  and  sticks.  He 
was  indeed  fortunate  if  he  reached  the  end  of  the 
file  alive. 

For  many  days  the  party  rested  where  they 
were,  presumably  waiting  for  more  prisoners.  Mrs. 
Dustin  talked  with  the  other  captives,  made  friends 
with  the  Indians,  and  showed  no  suspicion  of  her 
designs,  in  order  to  throw  them  off  their  guard,  if 
it  could  be  done.  She  told  the  boy  to  do  likewise; 
and  he  won  the  favor  of  a  Chief,  who  explained  to 
him  how  to  scalp  an  enemy. 

Mrs.  Dustin  now  began  to  plan  some  definite 
way  of  escape.  Five  weeks  had  passed,  and,  at 
her  suggestion,  the  prisoners  showed  no  signs  of 
trying  to  get  away.  In  fact,  they  talked  to  the 
Indians  as  if  they  would  like  to  be  adopted  into 
the  tribe,  and  live  a  savage  life.  Mrs.  Dustin 
succeeded  in  getting  a  little  corn  every  day  and 
hiding  it,  and  she  finally  found  out  from  the  In- 
dians exactly  where  they  were,  and  in  what  direc- 
tion lay  the  white  settlements.  In  the  meantime, 
she  and  the  nurse  had  also  learned  how  to  scalp, 
and  several  sharp  knives  had  been  secured  by  them 
and  hidden  away. 


90  AMERICA  FIRST 


At  last  a  time  came  when  the  Indians  no  longer 
kept  guard.  They  all  slept,  and  sometimes  their 
sleep  was  very  deep.  Mrs.  Dust  in  often  arose  and 
went  among  the  braves,  to  see  how  wakeful  they 
were  to  sounds.  But  they  slept  as  if  no  one  was 
near.  Then  one  night  arrived,  after  a  hard  hunt, 
when  the  Indians  were  so  tired  and  had  feasted  so 
fully  that  they  had  fallen  into  a  very  deep  sleep 
indeed. 

It  was  dark,  and  all  around  was  still.  Mrs. 
Dustin  gently  shook  the  boy  and  the  nurse,  who 
arose  with  tomahawks  and  knives  in  hand.  Each 
selected  three  Indians,  and  Mrs.  Dustin  took  four. 
Slowly  they  crept,  by  the  dim  light  of  the  camp 
fire,  close  to  the  sleeping  savages.  Knife  after 
knife  descended  with  unerring  aim,  and  the  toma- 
hawk struck  its  deadly  blow  quickly  and  surely, 
until  ten  Indians  lay  dead.  Not  a  soul  was  left 
of  them,  except  one  old  Indian  woman  and  a  boy 
of  eleven,  who  escaped  in  the  dark. 

Mrs.  Dustin  and  her  companions  freshly  lighted 
the  fire,  and  by  the  glow  scalped  all  the  dead 
Indians.  Then  they  made  their  way  to  the  canoes 
on  the  shore,  and,  scuttling  the  boats  except  those 
they  needed,  they  took  the  guns,  ammunition  and 
food  belonging  to  the  Indians,  as  well  as  the  food 
they  had  hidden,  and  started  down  the  river. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  91 


Day  after  day  they  paddled,  pausing  at  night  to 
rest.  Cautiously  they  built  small  fires  to  cook 
their  much-needed  food.  While  they  slept,  one 
was  always  left  awake  and  on  guard.  xVfter  a 
while,  the  party  reached  home,  and  there  was  great 
rejoicing,  for  they  had  long  since  been  given  up  as 
dead. 

The  General  Assembly  of  Massachusetts  voted 
Mrs.  Dustin  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Maryland  sent  her  a  silver  tankard  which, 
to  this  very  day,  is  preserved  with  much  pride  by 
her  descendants. 


ISRAEL  PUTNAM  CAPTURES  THE  WOLF 

Long  before  the  Revolutionary  War,  Israel  Put- 
nam was  a  farmer  in  Connecticut.  He  was  very 
busy  building  houses  and  barns,  felling  trees,  mak- 
ing fences,  sowing  grain,  planting  orchards,  and 
taking  care  of  his  stock.  We  may  be  sure  he  had 
all  the  worries  of  the  farmer  of  to-day,  but,  in  ad- 
dition, the  wolves  came  and  killed  his  sheep.  In 
one  night  he  lost  seventy-five  sheep  and  goats, 
killed  by  an  old  she-wolf  which,  for  several  years, 
had  wrought  havoc  among  the  cattle  of  the 
neighborhood. 


92  A]VIERICA  FIRST 


Putnam  and  five  of  his  neighbors  resolved  to 
hunt  down  the  wolf,  and  put  an  end  to  her  depre- 
dations. This  particular  beast  was  known  to  have 
lost  the  toes  from  one  foot  in  a  steel  trap;  there- 
fore, her  tracks  in  the  snow  were  easily  recognized. 
The  men  and  the  dogs  started  in  pursuit  one  day, 
tracking  the  wolf  to  a  den  about  three  miles  from 
Putnam's  house.  She  was  a  vicious  old  beast, 
cunning  and  fierce,  and  even  the  dogs  were  afraid 
to  follow  her  into  her  hiding-place. 

The  people  from  nearby  came  with  fire,  straw, 
sulphur,  and  everything  else  they  could  think  of, 
to  smoke  the  wolf  out;  and  their  guns  were  held 
ready  to  fire  when  she  appeared  at  the  mouth  of 
the  den.  The  dogs  were  at  last  sent  into  the  cave, 
but  they  clambered  out,  wounded  and  howling,  and 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  go  back.  Blazing  straw 
and  wood  had  no  effect.  The  wolf  refused  to  be 
driven  out,  either  by  the  dogs  or  by  the  smoke  of 
the  fire. 

Putnam  proposed  to  his  negro  servant  that  he 
should  go  down  after  the  wolf;  but  the  negro  flatly 
refused.  Wliereupon  Putnam  declared  that  he 
would  go  in  after  the  beast  himself.  His  neighbors 
tried  to  dissuade  him  from  the  perilous  task,  but 
Putnam  was  man  of  his  word.  He  took  off  his 
coat,  tied  a  rope  around  one  foot,  so  he  could  be 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY 


dragged  out,  seized  a  firebrand,  and  crawled  into 
the  cave.  He  went  in,  head  foremost,  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  waving  the  torch  before  him. 

The  opening  was  small.  Then  the  cave  de- 
scended a  depth  of  fifteen  feet,  and  ran  horizontally 
for  ten  feet  more.  In  no  place  w^as  it  large  enough 
for  Putnam  to  stand  up;  so  he  slid  down  the  in- 
cline until  he  reached  the  bottom.  It  was  very- 
dark  and  very  still.  Cautiously  crawling  along,  he 
saw  the  glaring  eyeballs  of  the  wolf  at  the  end  of 
the  cave. 

He  then  kicked  the  rope  as  a  signal  to  his  friends 
that  he  had  met  his  prey.  Thinking  he  was  being 
attacked  and  in  great  danger,  they  pulled  on  the 
rope  so  fast  that  they  dragged  him  out  of  the  cave, 
tearing  his  shirt,  and  skinning  his  back  badly. 
Putnam  had  found  the  wolf,  however,  and,  after 
rubbing  his  bruises  a  little,  he  loaded  his  gun, 
Ughted  a  fresh  torch,  and  was  again  lowered  into 
the  den. 

When  he  drew  near  the  old  wolf,  she  gnashed 
her  teeth,  growded,  and,  uttering  a  long  and  terrible 
howl,  sprang  at  the  brave  man  in  front  of  her. 
Putnam,  however,  was  quick  w^ith  his  gun.  By  the 
light  of  the  torch  he  saw  the  wolf's  eyes,  and  fired 
as  she  sprang.  Again  his  friends  dragged  him  up 
the  incline,  for  they  had   heard   the   howl   of   the 


94  AMERICA   FIRST 


woK  and  the  report  of  the  gun.  After  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  Putnam  went  down  the  third  time, 
and,  when  he  came  near,  the  wolf  lay  very  still. 
He  put  the  lighted  torch  to  her  nose,  but  she  did 
not  move.  He  knew  then  that  she  was  dead.  He 
kicked  the  rope,  and  the  people  outside  for  the 
last  time  drew  Putnam  out,  holding  on  to  the  great 
body  of  his  prize. 


A  YOUNG  SUR\TEYOR 

WTien  Washington  was  a  boy,  there  lived  in  Vir- 
ginia an  old  English  nobleman,  by  the  name  of 
Lord  Fairfax.  He  had  come  into  possession  of  a 
large  tract  of  land,  but  was  by  no  means  sure  of 
its  extent  and  boundaries. 

The  grandfather  of  Lord  Fairfax,  the  famous 
Lord  Culpepper,  had,  at  one  time,  been  Governor 
of  Virginia.  \Mien  he  went  back  to  England,  he 
asked  the  King,  Charles  II,  to  give  him  all  the 
land  between  the  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 
Rivers,  which  the  King,  in  his  easy-going  way, 
readily  consented  to  do.  It  was  a  large  and  valu- 
able estate,  with  but  few  settlers  on  it.  Lord  Cul- 
pepper, however,  did  not  trouble  himself  much 
about  it,  and  never  came  back  to  Virginia  to  see  it. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  95 


Wlien  the  old  Governor  died,  this  land  descended 
to  his  daughter,  and  from  her  to  Lord  Fairfax. 
The  latter  was  a  fashionable  young  nobleman  in 
London  society;  so  he  sent  his  cousin,  AYilliam 
Fairfax,  to  look  after  his  great  estate  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  America,  not  caring  a  great  deal  at  that 
time  what  became  of  it. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Lord  Fairfax  fell  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  young  lady,  and  the  two  became 
engaged  to  be  married.  But  she  proved  faithless 
to  her  promise,  and,  when  a  nobleman  of  higher 
rank  presented  himself,  she  promptly  threw  Lord 
Fairfax  aside.  This  was  a  bitter  blow  to  him,  and 
he  was  so  distressed  and  mortified  that  he  deter- 
mined never  to  marry  anyone,  but  to  move  to 
America  and  live  on  his  Virginia  estate. 

So  he  came  across  seas,  and,  with  his  cousin, 
dwelt  in  his  fine  mansion  at  Bel  voir,  not  far  from 
the  Washington  estate  at  Mount  Vernon.  Here  he 
became  a  middle-aged  man,  tall,  gaunt,  and  near- 
sighted, spending  much  of  his  time  in  hunting,  of 
which  he  was  very  fond.  His  favorite  companion 
on  these  hunting  trips  was  young  George  Wash- 
ington, who  was  a  very  active  boy,  fond  of  all  out- 
door life. 

Lord  Fairfax  w^as  so  much  attached  to  Wash- 
ington that  he  decided  to  employ  him  as  a  surveyor 


9Q  AMERICA  FIRST 

for  his  great  estate.  George  had  studied  survey- 
ing, and  was  anxious  to  undertake  the  work.  The 
old  man  and  the  young  boy,  now  sixteen  years  of 
age,  talked  the  matter  over  carefully,  and  every- 
thing was  made  ready  for  the  great  survey. 

Lord  Fairfax's  estate  was  large,  his  "grant" 
stretching  between  the  Potomac  and  Rappahan- 
nock Rivers,  and  crossing  the  Blue  Ridge  moun- 
tains into  the  valley  beyond.  It  was  all  wild 
country,  with  only  a  few  settlers  here  and  there, 
with  scattered  Indian  villages  and  wild  beasts. 
But  it  had  to  be  surveyed  and  measured,  and 
maps  had  to  be  drawn  before  any  part  of  it  could 
be  sold.  To  make  this  survey  and  these  maps  was 
the  task  assigned  to  George  Washington,  the  young 
surveyor. 

It  was  in  the  early  spring  of  1748,  that  George 
Washington  and  George  Wilham  Fairfax,  son  of 
the  Master  of  Belvoir,  armed  with  good  guns, 
mounted  on  sturdy  horses,  and  fully  equipped  with 
surveying  instruments,  started  on  their  trip  into 
the  wilderness.  The  country  in  which  they  found 
themselves  was  beautiful.  Lofty  trees,  broad  grassy 
slopes,  sparkling  streams,  and  giant  mountains  lent 
variety  and  interest  to  their  work.  Spring  w^as 
just  beginning,  and  the  birds,  the  early  flowers, 
and  the  fresh  sunshine  made  life  very  happy  for 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  97 


the  two  boys  entering  upon  their  summer's  excur- 
sion into  the  woods. 

Their  course  led  them  up  the  banks  of  the  Shen- 
andoah, where  they  measured  and  marked  the  land 
as  they  went,  and  mapped  down  its  leading  fea- 
tures. At  night  they  found  shelter  in  the  rude 
cabin  of  some^  settler,  or,  if  none  was  near,  they 
built  a  fire  in  the  woods,  cooked  the  game  they 
had  killed,  and  lay  down  upon  the  ground  to  sleep. 
Thus  they  went  on,  day  by  day,  till  they  came  to 
the  place  where  the  Shenandoah  flows  into  the 
Potomac.  Then  up  the  Potomac  and  across  the 
mountains  to  a  place  called  Berkeley  Springs. 

The  two  boys  had  no  serious  adventures.  They 
met  one  band  of  Indians,  about  thirty  in  number, 
painted  and  armed  for  war;  but  these  paid  no 
attention  to  the  two  surveyors  and  offered  them 
no  harm.  At  times  hfe  in  the  woods  was  hard; 
rains  often  soaked  them,  and  the  dampness  pre- 
vented them  from  building  a  fire  for  cooking;  it 
was  also  difficult  to  get  warm  in  the  chill  nights 
of  the  mountains.  They  slept  mostly  in  the  open 
air,  WTapped  up  in  their  great  coats,  and  lying 
upon  a  bed  of  leaves  or  boughs,  Often  they  cooked 
by  merely  holding  bits  of  meats  on  sharp  sticks 
before  the  fire;  while  chips' or  pieces  of  bark  took 
the  place  of  dishes.     But  the  two  boys  enjoyed  the 


98  AjVIERICA  first 


work  heartily.  They  were  never  sick  and  never 
dissatisfied. 

The  weeks  passed  by,  and  still  they  measured 
the  land,  located  the  marks,  and  made  their  maps. 
It  was  nearing  smnmertime  when  they  completed 
their  journey,  and  turned  their  faces  homeward. 
They  rode  over  the  mountains,  and  back  to  Bel- 
voir,  where  they  made  their  report  to  Lord  Fair- 
fax. The  old  nobleman  was  delighted  with  what 
they  had  done,  and  more  than  pleased  with  the 
wonderful  estate  they  had  surveyed. 

Lord  Fairfax  left  Belvoir,  and  made  his  home 
at  Greenway  Court,  which  was  a  hunting  lodge  he 
had  built  upon  his  estate.  Here  he  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life,  surrounded  by  the  great  forests, 
in  sound  of  the  running  waters,  and  in  sight  of  the 
tall  mountains.  Here,  an  old  and  feeble  man,  the 
Revolutionary  War  found  him  still  alive.  \ATien 
he  heard  of  the  victory  of  George  Washington  at 
Yorktown,  he  exclaimed,  ''I  knew,  when  he  was  a 
lad  surveying  the  wilderness  for  me,  that  boy 
would  make  a  great  man.  Still,  I  am  sorry  he  did 
not  fight  for  the  King  instead  of  against  him." 


STORIES   OF   OUR  OWN  HISTORY  99 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  YOUNG 
WASHINGTON 

\Mien  Washington  was  twenty-one  years  old,  he 
was  sent  by  Governor  Dinwiddie,  of  Virginia,  with 
a  message  to  the  French  Commander  in  the  Ohio 
Valley,  directing  him  to  withdraw  from  that  terri- 
tory, since  it  was  claimed  as  an  English  possession. 
The  place  where  Washington  was  to  go  was  about 
five  hundred  and  sixty  miles  away,  through  a 
tangled  wilderness,  beset  by  Indians  and  dangers 
of  all  kinds. 

Washington,  with  a  small  party,  started,  in  Octo- 
ber, on  his  long  journey.  The  winter  soon  settled 
down  on  the  travelers  as  they  toiled  along.  The 
snow  fell  thick  and  fast,  the  rain  froze,  and  the 
sleet  cut  their  faces  like  knives.  Still,  they  were 
all  strong  young  men,  capable  of  enduring  great 
hardship,  and  they  bravely  pursued  their  way. 

\Mien  they  reached  the  French  settlement,  they 
found  the  officer  in  charge  busily  engaged,  prepar- 
ing his  fort.  Washington  delivered  the  letter  from 
Governor  Dinwiddie.  The  French  Commander  po- 
litely replied  that  he  was  a  soldier,  acting  under 
orders,  and  that  it  was  his  purpose  to  stay  where 
he  was,  until  the  Governor  of  Canada  directed  him 


100  ajmerica  first 


to  move.  He  wrote  a  letter  to  Governor  Din- 
widdle to  this  effect,  and  handed  it  to  Washing- 
ton; after  w^hich  he  treated  the  party  with  much 
consideration  and  kindness,  until  they  were  ready 
to  depart. 

Our  story  mainly  deals  with  his  return  journey. 
It  was  now^  the  dead  of  winter,  and  very  cold. 
The  long  pathless  forest,  the  steep  mountains,  the 
swollen  streams,  the  treacherous  savages,  hunger 
and  cold,  lay  before  Washington;  but,  with  a  few 
faithful  Indian  guides  and  a  companion,  named 
Gist,  he  prepared  to  start  on  his  perilous  way. 
The  French  were  polite  to  the  very  last.  They 
stocked  his  canoes  with  provisions,  and  gave  him 
everything  he  needed  for  his  journey. 

But  Washington  found  the  snow  falling  so  fast 
that  he  sent  a  few  men  with  the  horses  and  bag- 
gage through  the  forest,  while  he  took  his  own 
small  party  in  canoes  down  the  river.  The  way 
was  most  difficult.  The  channel  was  obstructed 
by  rocks  and  drifting  logs.  Shallows  and  danger- 
ous currents  abounded. 

"Many  times,"  wrote  Washington,  "all  hands 
were  obliged  to  get  out  and  remain  in  the  water 
half  an  hour  or  more,  while  taking  their  canoes 
across  the  shoals.  At  one  place,  the  ice  had 
lodged  and  made  it  impassable  by  water;    so  we 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  101 

were  forced  to  carry  our  canoe  across  a  neck  of 
land  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile." 

In  six  days  they  went  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles,  on  a  half  frozen  river,  in  frail  canoes,  to  the 
place  where  they  had  planned  to  meet  their  horses 
and  baggage.  When  they  arrived,  they  found  the 
outfit  in  a  very  pitiable  plight. 

Under  these  conditions  Washington  and  Gist 
determined  to  proceed  alone  on  foot,  leaving  the 
others  to  follow.  With  his  gun  on  his  shoulders, 
his  knapsack  on  his  back,  and  a  stout  staff  to 
steady  his  feet,  the  brave  adventurer  started,  fol- 
lowed by  his  faithful  companion,  similarly  equipped. 
Leaving  the  regular  path,  they  struck  a  straight 
course,  by  the  compass,  through  the  woods. 

The  journey  was  full  of  excitement.  An  Indian 
at  one  place  met  them  and  agreed  to  show  them 
the  way.  At  the  end  of  the  first  day,  Washington 
grew  very  weary  and  foot-sore  with  the  heavy 
traveling.  The  Indian,  who  had  carried  his  knap- 
sack, now  offered  to  carry  his  gun  also.  This 
Washington  refused,  and  the  Indian  fell  back  a  few 
paces,  his  face  scowling.  They  had  proceeded  a 
few  miles  further  on  when  the  Indian,  who  had 
dropped  behind,  suddenly  stopped. 

Washington  and  Gist  looked  back  and  saw  the 
treacherous  savage  aiming  his  gun  at  them.     With 


102  AMERICA  FIRST 

a  cry  of  alarm  they  both  leaped  aside,  just  as  the 
weapon  was  fired,  thereby  escaping  injury.  But  it 
was  a  narrow  escape,  and  Gist  was  angry  at  this 
treatment;  so  he  ran  in  pursuit  of  the  Indian,  who 
had  taken  refuge  behind  a  tree.  He  seized  him  by 
the  throat  and  was  on  the  point  of  thrusting  his 
knife  into  him,  when  Washington  called  out, 
"Don't  kill  him.  It  will  do  no  good,  and  will 
only  sound  an  alarm  to  bring  other  savages  down 
upon  us.     Bind  him,  and  have  him  go  with  us." 

Gist  accordingly  bound  the  Indian  and  ordered 
him  to  walk  ahead  of  the  party  for  a  day  or  more. 
Then  Washington  released  him,  and  bade  him  be- 
gone to  his  home  in  the  woods.  The  following 
night  they  reached  the  Allegheny  River,  where 
they  were  destined  to  meet  with  a  most  dangerous 
experience. 

They  had  hoped  to  cross  on  the  ice,  but  the 
river  was  not  frozen  hard  enough;  so  they  lay 
down  on  a  bed  of  snow,  and  covered  themselves 
up  in  their  blankets,  expecting  that,  by  morning, 
the  thick  ice  would  be  formed.  But  on  rising, 
they  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  the  ice  was  not  yet  to 
be  trusted. 

"We  will  make  a  raft,  and  rely  on  our  good  for- 
tune to  get  us  safely  over,"  said  Washington. 
Whereupon  he  and  Gist  began  to  cut  down  trees 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  103 


with  their  one  small  hatchet,  and  to  bind  the  logs 
together  with  vines.  It  took  a  whole  day  to  com- 
plete the  raft,  but,  not  caring  to  spend  another 
night  in  the  same  place,  thej^  immediately  launched 
their  frail  craft,  and  put  out  from  the  shore. 

Before  they  had  gone  half  across,  the  raft  was 
jammed  in  the  floating  ice,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if 
they  would  be  thrown  into  the  water  at  any  mo- 
ment. Washington  tried  to  hold  the  raft  with  his 
pole,  in  order  to  prevent  it  from  drifting  down 
stream.  The  result  was  most  disastrous.  The 
strength  of  the  current  was  so  great  that  Wash- 
ington, powerful  as  he  was,  was  jerked  violently 
from  the  raft,  and  thrown  into  the  icy  current. 

It  was  a  dangerous  moment  for  the  future  leader 
of  the  Revolutionary  armies  of  America.  By 
heroic  effort,  he  breasted  the  cold  water,  pushed 
aside  the  floating  ice,  and  caught  hold  of  one  end 
of  the  raft.  Here,  Gist  assisted  him  to  regain  his 
place,  dripping  and  shivering. 

They  had  to  abandon  the  raft  and  seek  shelter 
on  an  island.  All  night  long,  without  fire  and 
food,  his  wet  clothes  freezing  to  his  body,  Wash- 
ington waited  for  the  hours  to  pass  till  morning. 
He  kept  alive  by  stamping  his  feet  and  beating 
his  arms.  When  day  dawned,  the  river  was  frozen 
over,    thick    and    solid,    and    our    two    adventurers 


104  AMERICA  FIRST 


hastened  to  cross  to  the  other  side.  Gist  had  his 
face  and  fingers  frozen,  but  Washington  escaped 
injury.  They  reached  a  trading-post  where,  after 
several  days,  they  were  completely  recovered  and 
ready  to  resume  their  journey. 

The  remaining  portion  of  the  trip  was  without 
adventure,  though  it  w^as  not  without  hardship. 
In  due  time,  Washington  reached  the  capital  of 
Virginia  and  dehvered  to  the  Governor  the  answer 
of  the  French  Commander.  He  had  been  absent 
eleven  weeks  and  had  traveled  over  a  thousand 
miles. 


HOW  THE  INDIANS  TREATED  IVIAJOR 
PUTNAM 

It  was  during  the  French  and  Indian  war,  in 
the  month  of  August,  1758,  that  Major  Israel  Put- 
nam and  a  body  of  Patriots  pursued  a  straggling 
party  of  the  enemy,  in  the  hope  of  capturing  some 
of  them.  But,  as  Putnam  was  discovered  by  the 
French  scouts,  he  feared  an  attack  in  force,  and 
thought  it  best  to  return  to  headquarters. 

The  route  was  a  difficult  one,  and  the  Patriots 
were  proceeding  with  caution,  when  one  of  the 
officers  fooHshly  fired  his  pistol  at  a  mark,  thereby 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  105 


betraying  their  presence  to  the  French  and  In- 
dians. Mohmg,  the  noted  French  partisan,  was 
the  leader  of  the  enemy,  who,  having  located  Israel 
and  his  party,  laid  an  ambuscade  for  their  capture. 

Onward  through  the  woods  advanced  the  Pa- 
triots, not  suspecting  any  danger.  Hardly  had 
they  gone  a  mile,  when  yells  broke  forth  from  the 
bushes  on  both  sides,  and  a  shower  of  arrows  was 
poured  into  their  ranks.  Putnam  was  in  the  lead, 
and  ordered  his  men  to  return  the  fire;  at  the 
same  time  he  sent  back  word  for  the  others  to 
hasten  to  the  rescue.  The  fight  soon  became 
hand-to-hand.  The  Indians  dashed  from  tree  to 
tree,  the  Patriots  engaging  them  whenever  possible. 

Putnam,  himself,  was  met  in  fierce  struggle  by  a 
gigantic  Indian.  Putting  his  gun  to  the  breast  of 
the  savage,  he  pulled  the  trigger,  but  missed  fire. 
At  once  the  Indian  dashed  the  weapon  aside,  drew 
his  tomahawk,  and,  with  the  aid  of  other  savages, 
overcame  the  brave  woodsman.  Putnam  was  dis- 
armed and  his  hands  were  tied  behind  him.  He 
was  securely  bound  to  a  tree,  while  his  antagonist 
returned  to  the  conflict. 

Fiercely  the  battle  raged  around  the  captive. 
Bullets  and  arrows  flew  past  him,  some  of  them 
striking  the  tree  to  which  he  was  tied,  and  some 
even  piercing  his  clothing.     A  young  Indian  hurled 


106  AMERICA   FIRST 


a  tomahawk  at  his  head,  but  the  keen  weapon 
missed  its  mark,  and  buried  its  edge  in  the  bark. 
A  French  officer  leveled  his  musket  at  his  breast, 
but  it  failed  to  fire;  whereupon  he  struck  his  cap- 
tive a  cruel  blow  on  the  jaw.  In  the  end,  the 
savages  were  driven  back,  but  not  before  they  had 
time  to  unbind  their  prisoner,  and  take  him  with 
them  for  a  death  by  slow  torture. 

After  marching  a  short  distance,  Putnam  was 
deprived  of  his  coat,  vest,  shoes,  and  stockings, 
and  his  shoulders  were  loaded  down  with  a  heavy 
pack.  His  wrists  were  tied  as  tightly  as  the  cords 
could  be  drawn,  and,  in  this  condition,  he  was  made 
to  walk  through  the  woods  until  the  party  came 
to  a  halt.  His  hands  began  to  bleed  from  the 
bands;  his  feet  were  swollen  and  cut,  and  he  was 
in  a  pitiable  condition.  He  begged  the  Indians,  by 
signs,  to  knock  him  on  the  head,  or  to  end  his 
misery  by  burning  him  then  and  there.  A  French 
officer  heard  his  piteous  appeal,  ordered  his  cords 
to  be  loosed,  and  the  burden  removed  from  his 
back.  Shortly  afterwards,  the  Indian  who  had 
captured  him  saw  the  way  he  was  treated,  and, 
claiming  him  a  prisoner,  gave  him  moccasins  to 
wear  and  seemed  kindly  disposed  to  him.  But  this 
Indian  was  suddenly  obliged  to  go  elsewhere,  and 
Putnam  was  again  left  to  his  fate. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  107 

It  was  the  purpose  of  the  savages  to  burn  their 
captive  alive.  When  they  reached  their  camping- 
ground,  they  took  him  into  the  forest,  removed  all 
his  clothing,  tied  him  to  a  stake,  and  heaped  dry 
fuel  around  him.  While  doing  this,  they  rent  the 
air  with  the  most  dreadful  yells,  describing  the  tor- 
ture they  intended  to  inflict  upon  him.  When  the 
pile  was  ready,  it  was  set  on  fire,  and  the  flames 
caught  the  dry  brush  quickly. 

By  a  miracle,  a  heav;^^  downpour  of  rain  put  the 
fire  out,  and  wet  the  fuel  so  thoroughly  that  it 
would  not  burn.  The  Indians  yelled  w4th  chagrin, 
and  waited  until  the  rain  was  over.  In  a  short 
while,  the  sky  cleared,  and  again  the  savages  re- 
turned to  their  cruel  sport.  By  degrees,  another 
fire  was  kindled,  and,  slowly,  its  scorching  breath 
came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  agonized  prisoner. 
His  last  moments  indeed  seemed  to  have  come. 

''For  the  sake  of  heaven,"  cried  the  unhappy 
victim,  ''strike  me  dead  and  end  this  torture." 
He  gave  vent  to  a  terrible  cry  of  pain  as  the  fire 
began  to  scorch  his  flesh.  The  Indians  danced  and 
yelled  with  ever-increasing  delight;  the  agony  of  a 
victim  always  gave  them  the  keenest  pleasure. 

At  this  moment,  a  French  officer,  who  had 
heard  the  noise  made  by  the  savages,  rushed 
through  the  bushes,  pushed  the  howling  band  aside. 


108  AMERICA  FIRST 


and  began  to  stamp  the  fire  out.  It  was  Molang, 
himself,  who,  though  Putnam's  bitter  foe,  would 
never  allow  his  prisoners  to  be  tortured.  It  took 
but  a  moment  to  free  the  almost  fainting  Putnam 
from  his  bonds,  and  to  turn  him  over  to  the  gi- 
gantic Indian  who  had  first  captured  him  and  who 
was  far  more  humane  than  the  others  of  his  tribe. 

The  savage  regarded  Putnam  with  some  feeling 
of  consideration.  He  fed  him  with  soft  biscuits, 
and  gave  him  clothing,  at  the  same  time  taking 
care  that  he  should  not  escape.  The  long  march 
to  Montreal  began,  for  Putnam  was  but  one  of 
several  hundred  prisoners,  mostly  Indians,  on  their 
w^ay  to  the  French  forts  in  Canada.  On  reaching 
Montreal,  Putnam  was  in  a  frightful  condition. 
His  clothing  was  almost  gone;  he  was  dirty;  his 
beard  and  hair  w^ere  long  and  tangled,  his  body 
torn  by  thorns  and  briers,  and  his  face  blood- 
stained and  swollen. 

He  was  such  a  forlorn  object  to  look  at  that  the 
Indians  thought  it  hardly  w^orth  while  to  keep 
him;  so,  w^hen  the  time  came  to  exchange  prisoners, 
he  was  cheerfully  released  to  his  friends  in  New 
England.  We,  who  read  history,  know  that  Put- 
nam recovered  his  full  strength  and  was  afterwards 
able  to  give  a  good  account  of  himself  as  a  daring 
American  soldier. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  109 


HOW  DETROIT  WAS  SAVED 

At  the  close  of  the  French  and  Indian  War,  the 
town  of  Detroit  was  garrisoned  by  about  three 
hundred  men,  under  command  of  Major  Gladwyn. 
All  appearance  of  conflict  was  at  an  end.  The  In- 
dians seemed  to  be  most  friendly,  and  w^ere  allowed 
to  approach  the  fort  without  interference,  for  the 
purpose  of  trade  and  conference. 

Pontiac,  how^ever,  a  noted  Indian  Chief,  con- 
ceived a  plan  for  capturing  the  fort,  and  murder- 
ing the  garrison.  He  approached  with  a  band  of 
Indians,  and  camped  a  short  distance  away.  He 
sent  word  to  the  Governor,  Major  Glad^^yn,  that 
he  would  like  to  come  into  the  fort  to  trade  and 
to  have  a  talk.  The  Governor  replied  that  he 
would  be  glad  to  have  so  famous  a  Chief,  and  his 
warriors,  pay  him  a  visit;  and  he  fixed  the  day 
for  their  reception.  He  had  no  idea  that  they 
meditated  treachery,  and  was  really  anxious  to 
secure  their  good-will  and  friendship. 

The  evening  before  the  meeting,  an  Indian 
woman,  who  had  been  employed  by  Major  Glad- 
wyn to  make  him  a  pair  of  moccasins  out  of  elk 
skin,  brought  them  in.  They  were  beautiful,  and 
Major  Gladwyn  was  so  pleased  with  them  that  he 


110  AMERICA  FIRST 


thought  he  would  Hke  to  give  them  to  a  friend.  He 
therefore  told  the  Indian  woman  to  take  the  rest 
of  the  elk  skin,  and  make  him  another  pair. 

He  then  paid  what  he  owed  her,  and  dismissed 
her.  The  woman  went  to  the  door,  but  no  further. 
She  held  back  as  if  she  had  something  more  to  say. 
Upon  being  questioned  why  she  did  not  hurry 
home,  she  hesitated  a  while,  and  then  replied, 
"You  have  been  very  good  to  me.  You  have 
given  me  work  and  have  paid  me  for  it.  I  do  not 
want  to  take  away  the  elk  skin,  for  I  may  never 
see  you  again  to  give  you  the  shoes  you  want  me 
to  make." 

The  Governor  insisted  upon  knowing  why  she 
felt  this  way,  and,  after  much  persuasion  and 
many  promises  that  no  harm  should  ever  befall 
her,  she  confided  to  him  that  Pontiac  and  his 
band  had  formed  a  plot  to  kill  all  the  garrison, 
during  the  visit  they  were  about  to  pay  the  fol- 
lowing day;  after  which  they  planned  to  plunder 
the  town. 

She  told  the  Governor  also  that  the  Indians 
had  shortened  their  gun  stocks,  so  as  the  better 
to  conceal  them  under  their  blankets.  At  a  given 
signal,  they  were  to  rise  and  fire,  first  upon  the 
Governor  himself,  and  then  upon  every  soldier  in 
sight.     Other    Indians    in    the    town    were    to    be 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  ill 

armed  likewise,  and,  at  the  sound  of  firing,  were 
to  begin  a  general  murder  and  burning. 

This  was  a  terrible  story,  and  the  Governor  be- 
gan at  once  to  make  preparations  for  thwarting 
the  plans  of  Pontiac  and  his  Indian  warriors.  He 
sent  the  w^oman  away,  called  out  all  the  soldiers, 
and  armed  them  heavily.  He  gave  every  man  di- 
rections what  to  do,  and  told  all  the  traders  in 
town  to  be  in  readiness  to  repel  any  attack. 

About  ten  o'clock,  Pontiac  arrived,  his  warriors 
covered  with  heavy  blankets.  The  Governor  and 
his  officers  received  them  cheerfully.  Pontiac  was 
surprised  to  see  so  many  soldiers  on  guard,  and 
gathered  in  the  streets.  So  he  asked  why  it  was. 
The  Governor  replied,  "I  drill  them  every  day  to 
keep  them  ready  for  service."  Pontiac  was  dis- 
concerted by  the  number,  but  said  nothing  further„ 

He  then  began  his  speech  of  friendship  and  good- 
w^ill,  saying  he  never  intended  to  harm  the  English 
any  more,  but  always  expected  to  live  in  peace 
with  them.  He  desired  his  warriors  to  have  free 
access  to  Detroit,  promising  no  danger  to  the 
people.  He  w^as  about  to  hand  the  Governor  a 
belt  of  w^ampum,  which  was  the  signal  for  attack, 
but  Gladwyn  turned  upon  him  suddenly,  and  said, 

''You  are  a  traitor,  and  are  not  to  be  believed; 
see  this  evidence  of  your  deceit!"     He  tore  aside 


112  AlVIERICA  FIRST 


the  Chief's  blanket,  reveahng  the  shortened  gun 
concealed  beneath  it.  The  soldiers  thereupon  seized 
the  blankets  of  the  other  warriors,  and  laid  bare  all 
the  guns  ready  for  their  foul  design. 

The  Indians  were  thus  taken  by  surprise,  and 
gave  no  signal  to  their  companions  outside.  The 
Governor  told  Pontiac  that  the  English  had  means 
of  discovering  all  their  plots,  and  that  everything 
they  did  was  sure  to  be  known  at  once.  He  then 
led  the  much  astonished  Chief  and  his  band  to  the 
gates  of  the  fort,  and  ordered  them  never  again  to 
return  for  trade  or  conference.  He  spared  their 
lives,  but  the  next  time  he  promised  there  would 
be  no  mercy. 

By  evening  all  the  Indians  had  been  driven  out 
of  the  tow^n,  and  the  gates  were  closed  and  guarded. 
Pontiac  never  discovered  that  Detroit  was  saved 
by  the  timely  warning  of  a  grateful  woman,  but 
ever  afterwards  he  believed  that  the  English  had 
a  w^ay  of  knowing  whatever  plan  he  made  for  their 
destruction. 

THE  STORY  OF  ACADIA 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  land  of  tlie  far  north, 
which  we  now  call  Nova  Scotia,  there  lived  a 
company    of    French    people    whose    ancestors,    in 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  113 

generations  back,  had  come  from  France  to  make 
their  homes  in  the  New  World. 

They  were  very  happy  and  peaceful,  for  they 
were  industrious  and  frugal.  In  spring  and  sum- 
mer there  were  bright  flowers  and  abundance  of 
fruits,  while  autumn  brought  a  bounteous  harvest. 
They  desired  nothing  more  than  to  be  let  alone 
in  their  homes,  to  pursue  their  daily  labors  undis- 
turbed, and,  on  the  Sabbath,  to  worship  God  in 
their  own  way.     They  called  their  country  Acadia. 

So  the  dark-eyed  children  wandered  through  the 
woods  and  orchards  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and 
through  the  fields  when  the  grain  waved,  and  over 
the  meadows  where  the  cows  tinkled  their  bells. 
The  fathers  of  these  boys  and  girls  worked  in  the 
fields  or  in  their  shops;  and  built  little  houses  by 
the  side  of  the  streams.  Their  mothers  took  care 
of  the  homes,  nursed  the  babies,  and  made  cloth- 
ing for  the  winter. 

All  day  long  the  colony  was  very  busy.  Not  a 
soul  who  could  do  anything  to  help  was  idle;  even 
the  children,  when  not  in  school,  and  even  after 
their  hours  of  play,  had  their  appointed  tasks  to 
do.  At  night  the  families  would  gather  on  the 
doorsteps,  or  in  winter  by  the  fires,  and  tell  stories 
of  their  ancestors  who  lived  in  France. 

Because  their  grandfathers  and  great-grandfathers 


114  AMERICA  FIRST 


had  left  France  to  come  to  America,  these  people 
still  loved  the  old  country,  and  considered  them- 
selves to  be  French.  They  spoke  French,  dressed 
in  French  manner,  and  kept  up  the  customs  of  the 
land  in  which  their  forefathers  were  born. 

Thus,  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  lived  these 
peasants  in  the  happy  valley  of  Acadia.  There 
were  about  seven  thousand  of  them,  and  to  them 
the  world,  with  its  quarrels  and  wars,  its  rulers 
and  conquests,  was  of  no  moment;  they  cared  to 
have  no  part  in  it. 

Times  of  trouble  soon  loomed  up  for  the  Aca- 
dians.  The  land  in  which  they  lived  became  an 
English  possession,  and  the  King  of  England  was 
their  lawful  ruler.  The  simple  Acadians,  ignorant 
of  dynasties  and  kings,  and  loving  only  the  old 
France  of  their  ancestors,  refused  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  England. 

"We  are  French  people.  Our  great-grandfathers 
came  from  France.  We  speak  French,  and  our 
priests  tell  us  to  love  the  land  from  which  we 
sprang.  We  cannot  forswear  our  beautiful  France," 
they  said  to  the  British  officers. 

An  English  Governor  was  sent  to  rule  over  the 
country.  The  French  and  Indian  War  commenced, 
and  it  was  feared  the  Acadians  would  send  help  to 
the  French,  even  though  they  promised  to  be  neutral. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  115 

"We  are  French  born,  and  therefore  love  the 
French  people.  You  say  we  are  now  English  sub- 
jects by  treaty  and  cession  of  our  land  to  England. 
Therefore,  we  pray  you  to  let  us  be  neutral;  we 
do  not  want  to  enter  this  war,  for  we  would  not 
care  to  take  sides  against  our  King  and  our  people," 
replied  the  Acadians  to  their  new  Governor. 

But  the  English  were  not  satisfied  with  this, 
and  decided  upon  the  harsh  measure  of  moving  all 
the  Acadians  away  from  their  homes.  On  the  first 
day  of  June,  1755,  a  ship  sailed  into  the  Bay  of 
Fundy,  and  anchored  within  a  few  miles  of  Beau 
Sejour,  the  only  military  post  held  by  French 
troops. 

It  took  short  work  to  dispose  of  this  fort.  In  a 
few  months  the  troops  were  ready  to  carry  out 
the  order  of  the  English  government.  The  people 
were  again  asked  if  they  would  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  British  King,  and  again  they 
said,  "No." 

It  was  now  August,  and  the  waving  fields  of 
grain  betokened  the  industry  and  thrift  of  the 
people.  The  cattle  were  lowing  in  the  meadows, 
and  the  orchards  were  heavy  with  the  ripening 
fruit.  The  green  slopes  were  dotted  with  farm- 
houses, from  whose  chimneys  came  the  curling 
smoke    of    busy    housewives,    and    around    whose 


116  AAIERICA   FIRST 


doors  grew  bright  autumn  flowers  nodding  to  the 
laughter  of  Httle  children. 

A  body  of  English  troops  encamped  in  the  village 
of  Grand  Pre.  An  order  was  issued  for  all  the  men 
to  gather  at  the  church  on  a  certain  day,  in  order 
to  hear  a  decree  of  the  King.  The  bayonets  of  the 
soldiers  showed  plainly  that  the  men  had  to  obey. 

Clad  in  homespun,  wholly  unarmed,  and  inno- 
cent of  impending  misfortune,  the  men  came,  at 
the  sounding  of  the  bell  and  the  beating  of  the 
drums.  Without,  in  the  churchyard,  were  the 
women,  sitting  or  standing  among  the  graves  of 
their  dead. 

Then  there  arrived  the  guard  from  the  ship,  and 
the  soldiers  entered  the  church.  The  door  was 
closed,  and  the  men  waited  in  silence  to  hear  the 
will  of  the  King. 

The  Commander  arose,  and  held  up  a  paper 
bearing  the  royal  seal.  Then  he  spoke:  "You  are 
convened  by  his  Majesty's  orders  to  be  told  that 
all  your  lands,  dwellings,  and  cattle  of  all  kinds 
are  forfeited  to  the  Crown,  and  that  you  your- 
selves are  to  be  transported  from  this  Province  to 
other  lands.     Even  now  you  are  prisoners." 

The  men  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  Commander 
as  if  they  did  not  hear  him.  They  were  silent  for 
a  moment  in  speechless  wonder.     Then,  when  they 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  117 

understood  the  awful  meaning  of  the  order,  louder 
and  louder  grew  their  wails  of  anger  and  sorrow. 
They  rushed,  with  one  impulse,  to  the  door,  but 
in  vain;  for  the  soldiers  had  barred  the  entrance 
and  held  it  with  their  bayonets. 

One  man,  a  blacksmith,  rose,  with  his  arms  up- 
lifted and  with  his  face  flushed  with  passion. 
''Down  with  the  tyrants  of  England!  We  have 
never  sworn  allegiance.  Death  to  those  foreign  sol- 
diers, who  seize  on  our  homes  and  our  harvests!" 
he  cried.  But  the  merciless  hand  of  a  soldier 
smote  him  upon  the  mouth,  and  he  was  dragged 
to  the  pavement. 

The  order  was  carried  out  to  the  letter.  In  a 
few  weeks,  the  population  of  the  peaceful  valley 
was  launched  upon  the  sea  for  unknown  shores, 
while  the  lowing  of  cattle  and  the  howling  of  dogs 
were  the  only  sounds  heard  from  the  desolate  homes 
that  once  were  the  scenes  of  peace  and  plenty. 

Some  of  the  people  escaped  to  the  woods  and 
were  not  captured.  The  others  were  scattered 
among  the  English  colonies  all  the  way  from  Con- 
necticut to  Georgia.  Many  made  their  way  back 
to  Canada,  while  some  few  returned  to  their  old 
homes  in  Acadia.  A  number  found  their  way  to 
Louisiana  where,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Miss- 
issippi, their  descendants  may  still  be  found. 


118  AIMERICA  FIRST 


BLACKBEARD,  THE  PIRATE 

In  the  days  before  the  Revolution,  the  high  seas 
surrounding  x\merica  were  infested  with  robbers, 
called  pirates.  Their  ships,  manned  by  desperate 
men,  and  carrying  cannon  and  arms  for  fighting, 
scoured  the  ocean  highways,  and  attacked  peace- 
able and  slow  sailing  vessels,  which  they  robbed  of 
merchandise;  often  they  killed  the  sailors  and 
sank  the  ships. 

These  pirates  had  hiding-places  along  the  coast, 
especially  the  inlets,  where  they  landed  for  sup- 
plies, sold  their  prizes,  or  buried  their  treasures  in 
secret.  A  pirate's  life  was  full  of  adventure.  So 
terrible  was  the  menace  from  these  robbers  that 
every  sailing  vessel  dreaded  to  meet  them  on  their 
way  across  the  ocean,  or  up  and  down  the  coast. 

Among  these  pirates  was  a  Captain  whose  real 
name  was  Thatch,  but  who  was  known  as  "Black- 
beard."  He  wore  a  long  black  beard,  of  which  he 
w^as  very  careful  and  proud,  but  which  gave  him 
a  frightful  look.  Around  his  shoulders  was  a  strap 
from  which  huge  pistols  hung,  ready  for  use  in 
case  of  battle.  About  his  waist  was  a  belt,  holding 
his  cutlass,  which  was  so  large  and  strong  that, 
with   one   blow,   he   could   cut   off   a   man's    head. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  119 


He  was  very  cruel  and  wicked.  He  never  hesi- 
tated to  kill  all  the  sailors  on  board  a  captured 
vessel,  sometimes  hanging  them  to  the  rigging,  and 
often  tying  them  securely  and  leaving  them  on 
their  ship  as  it  went  to  the  bottom.  Once  he  shot 
several  of  his  own  crew  when  they  disobeyed  him 
about  a  small  matter. 

The  scene  of  his  operations  was  around  the  shores 
of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina,  and  even  as  far 
south  as  the  coast  of  Georgia.  He  had  accomplices 
on  shore,  who  bought  his  ill-gotten  cargoes,  sup- 
plied his  ships  with  provisions,  and  his  men  with 
arms.  He  became  so  bold  and  terrible  that  the 
people  of  Virginia  fitted  out  two  ships  to  go  after 
him  and  to  destroy  him,  if  they  could. 

Only  vessels  that  could  sail  in  shallow  water 
near  the  coast  were  sent  out,  and  these,  under  the 
command  of  Lieutenant  Maynard.  For  many  days 
the  ships  sailed  around,  looking  for  Blackbeard  and 
his  crew.  After  a  while  the  pirate  ship  came  into 
view,  and  hoisted  her  flag  with  the  skull  and  cross 
bones,  calling  on  Maynard  to  surrender.  But  in- 
stead, Maynard  hung  out  his  flag  and  dared  the 
pirate  to  come  on.  Blackbeard  drew  near,  and 
called  out,  ''Give  up  your  ship  at  once,  I  take  no 
prisoners." 

Maynard  replied,  "I  shall  not  surrender,  and  I 


120  AiMERICA  FIRST 


shall  not  show  you  any  mercy."  With  that  the 
battle  began. 

Maynard,  after  sending  most  of  his  men  into  the 
hold  of  his  ship  for  safety,  ran  alongside  the  pirate. 
Blackbeard  fired  a  broadside  into  Maynard's  vessel, 
and,  seeing  no  men  aboard,  thought  that  every  one 
was  killed.  He  therefore  ordered  his  own  crew  to 
take  possession.  \Mien  the  pirates  came  aboard, 
swords  in  hand,  Maynard's  men  sprang  from  the 
hold  of  their  vessel,  and  desperate  fighting  began 
on  the  deck. 

Blackbeard  was  shot  five  times,  besides  being 
w^ounded  with  sword  cuts.  He  fought  bravely, 
calling  so  loudly  to  his  men,  that  his  voice  was 
heard  above  the  roar  of  the  battle.  His  pistol  was 
soon  emptied,  and,  seizing  another,  he  leveled  it  at 
one  of  Maynard's  men.  Just  then,  however,  he 
received  a  wound  through  the  head  and  w^as  in- 
stantly killed.  His  men  were  taken  prisoners  and 
the  battle  was  ended. 

Maynard  hung  the  pirate's  head  before  the  bow 
of  his  ship,  and  sailed  back  to  Virginia,  where  the 
people  made  a  great  celebration  in  honor  of  his 
victory. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  121 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE 

Daniel  Boone  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  in 
Kentucky.  He  had  to  fight  wild  animals  and  In- 
dians, but  he  liked  it.  He  loved  adventure,  and 
went  forth  to  find  a  home  for  his  family  in  the 
deep  and  unbroken  forest.  He  came  to  Kentucky, 
in  June,  1769,  with  five  companions.  We  will  let 
him  tell  his  story  in  his  own  words: 

''We  found,  everywhere,  abundance  of  wild  beasts 
of  all  sorts  through  the  vast  forest.  The  buffaloes 
were  more  numerous  than  cattle  in  the  settleinents, 
fearless  because  ignorant  of  the  violence  of  man. 
Sometimes  we  saw  hundreds  in  a  drove,  and  the 
numbers  about  the  salt  springs  w^ere  amazing. 

"As  we  ascended  the  brow  of  a  small  hill,  near 
the  Kentucky  River,  some  Indians  rushed  out  of  a 
thick  cane-brake  upon  us,  and  made  us  prisoners. 
They  plundered  us  of  what  we  had,  and  kept  us 
in  confinement  seven  days.  During  this  time  we 
showed  no  uneasiness  or  desire  to  escape,  which 
made  them  less  suspicious  of  us.  But,  in  the  dead 
of  night,  as  we  lay  in  a  thick  cane-brake  by  a  large 
fire,  I  touched  my  companion,  and  gently  woke 
him.  We  improved  this  favorable  opportunity, 
and  departed,  leaving  the  Indians  to  take  their  rest. 


122  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


"Soon  after  tins,  my  companion  in  captivity  was 
killed  by  the  savages,  and  the  man  that  came  with 
my  brother  returned  home  by  himself.  We  were 
then  in  a  dangerous,  helpless  situation,  exposed 
daily  to  perils  and  death  among  savages  and  wild 
beasts,  not  a  white  man  in  the  country  but  our- 
selves. One  day  I  took  a  tour  through  the  coun- 
try, and  the  beauties  of  nature  I  met  with  expelled 
every  gloomy  and  vexatious  thought.  I  laid  me 
down  to  sleep,  and  awoke  not  until  the  sun  had 
chased  away  night. 

"I  returned  to  my  old  camp,  which  was  not  dis- 
turbed. I  did  not  confine  my  lodging  to  it,  but 
often  slept  in  the  thick  cane-brakes  to  avoid  the 
savages,  who,  I  believe,  often  visited  my  camp, 
but  fortunately  in  my  absence.  In  this  situation 
I  was  constantly  exposed  to  danger  and  death. 
In  1772,  I  returned  safe  to  my  old  home,  and 
found  my  family  in  happy  circumstances. 

"I  sold  my  farm  and  what  goods  w^e  could  not 
carry  with  us,  and,  in  company  with  five  families 
more  and  forty  men  that  joined  us,  we  proceeded 
on  our  journey  to  Kentucky.  After  two  weeks,  the 
rear  of  our  company  was  attacked  by  a  number  of 
Indians,  who  killed  six  men  and  wounded  another. 
Of  these  my  eldest  son  was  one  who  fell  in  the 
action.     This  unhappy  affair  scattered  our  cattle. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  123 


and   so   discouraged   the   whole   company   that   we 
retreated  to  the  settlement  on  Clinch  River. 

"Within   fifteen   miles    of   where   Boonesborough 
now  stands  we  were  fired  upon  by  Indians,   who 
killed    two    and    wounded    two    of    our    numbers. 
Although  surprised  and  taken  at  a  disadvantage, 
we  stood  our  ground.     Three  days  later  we  were 
fired   upon   again,    and   two   men    were   killed   and 
three  were  w^ounded.     Afterwards,  we  proceeded  to 
the  Kentucky  River  without  opposition,  and  began 
to  erect  the  fort  at  Boonesborough,  at  a  salt  lick, 
about  sixty  yards  from  the  river  on  the  south  side. 
"In  July  three  girls,  one  of  them  my  daughter, 
were  taken  prisoners  near  the  fort.     I  pursued  the 
Indians  with  only  eight  men,  overtook  them,  killed 
two  of  the  party,  and  recovered  the  girls.     Shortly 
afterwards,  a  party  of  about  two  hundred  Indians 
attacked  Boonesborough.     They  besieged   us  forty- 
eight  hours,  during  which  time  seven  of  them  were 
killed.     At   last,    finding   themselves   not   likely   to 
prevail,  they  raised  the  siege  and  departed. 

"In  October,  a  party  of  Indians  made  an  excur- 
sion into  the  district  called  the  Crab  Orchard,  and 
one  of  them,  who  was  advanced  some  distance  be- 
fore the  others,  boldly  entered  the  house  of  a  poor, 
defenseless  family,  in  which  was  only  a  negro  man, 
a  woman,  and  her  children.     The  savage  attempted 


124  AJVIERICA  FIRST 


to  capture  the  negro,  who  happily  proved  too 
strong  for  him  and  threw  him  on  the  ground;  in 
the  struggle,  the  mother  of  the  children  drew  an 
ax  from  a  corner  of  the  cottage,  and  cut  his  head 
off,  while  her  daughter  shut  the  door. 

''The  other  savages  appeared,  and  applied  their 
tomahawks  to  the  door.  An  old  rusty  gun-barrel, 
without  a  lock,  lay  in  the  corner;  this  the  mother 
put  through  a  small  crevice  in  the  door,  perceiving 
which  the  Indians  fled.  In  the  meantime,  the 
alarm  spread  through  the  neighborhood.  The 
armed  men  collected,  and  pursued  the  savages  into 
the  wilderness.  From  that  time  the  Indians  did  us 
no  mischief. 

"I  can  now  confess  that  I  have  proved  true  the 
saying  of  an  old  Indian,  who,  on  signing  a  deed 
for  his  land,  remarked,  'Brother,  w^e  have  given 
you  a  fine  land,  but  you  will  have  much  trouble 
in  settling  it.'  Many  dark  and  sleepless  nights 
have  I  been  the  companion  of  owls,  separated  from 
the  cheerful  society  of  men,  scorched  by  the  sum- 
mer's sun,  and  pinched  by  the  winter's  cold,  an 
instrument  ordained  to  settle  the  wilderness." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  125 


SUNDAY  IN  THE  COLONIES 

All  the  Colonists  were  strict  in  the  observance 
of  worship.  Sunday  was  a  severe  day,  and  every- 
body had  to  be  on  his  best  behavior.  The  first 
building  used  for  church  purposes  was  the  fort,  to 
which  every  one  marched  in  a  body,  the  men  fully 
armed  to  protect  the  congregation  from  the  In- 
dians. Before  the  fort  was  finished,  the  people 
worshiped  under  trees,  or  in  tents,  or  anyw^here 
they  could  find  a  place.  Many  of  the  earhest 
meeting-houses  were  log  huts,  with  mud  between 
the  cracks,  and  with  thatched  roofs. 

These  early  churches  had  oiled  paper  in  the 
window^s.  \Mien  glass  was  brought  over,  it  was 
set  in  by  nails,  for  there  was  no  putty.  Neither 
was  there  any  paint,  so  the  outside  of  every  house 
was  left  to  turn  gray  with  the  weather,  or  to  be- 
come moss-covered  from  the  dampness  of  the  grove 
in  which  it  were  usually  placed. 

Rewards  were  paid  for  the  killing  of  wolves,  and 
any  one  who  brought  a  wolf's  head,  nailed  it  to 
the  outside  wall  of  the  church,  and  wrote  his 
name  under  it.  You  can  imagine  what  a  grim 
sight  the  bloody  trophies  made.  All  sorts  of  notices 
were  posted  on  the  church  doors,  so  that  everybody 


126  A^IERICA  FIRST 


might  see  them  —  announcements  of  town  meet- 
ings, of  proposed  marriages,  of  cattle  sales,  of  rules 
agamst  trading  with  the  Indians;  in  fact  the 
church  door  took  the  place  of  the  newspaper  of  to- 
day for  spreading  the  news.  It  was  the  only 
means  of  advertisement. 

In  front  of  the  church  stood  a  row  of  hitching - 
posts  and  stepping  stones,  for  nearly  everybody 
rode  to  meeting.  On  the  green,  in  front  or  to  one 
side,  were  often  placed  the  pillory,  stock,  and 
whipping-post. 

There  were  many  ways  of  calling  the  people  to 
church,  such  as  beating  a  drum,  ringing  a  bell, 
or  blowing  a  shell.  Many  of  the  churches  had  a 
drummer,  who  went  up  and  down  the  streets,  or 
else  stood  in  the  belfry  and  drummed.  After  the 
signal  was  given,  a  man  went  the  rounds  of  the 
village,  and  looked  in  all  the  houses,  to  see  that 
ever^^body  who  was  able  had  gone  to  church.  Woe 
betide  the  man  who  was  late,  or  the  boy  who  had 
skipped  away  to  the  w^oods! 

The  inside  of  a  Colonial  church  w^as  simple 
enough.  Overhead,  the  rafters  usually  opened  to 
the  thatch  or  clapboard  roof;  the  floors  were  of 
earth,  or  rough  boards;  and  the  pews  or  benches 
had  straight  backs  and  were  hard.  The  pulpit 
was  usually  a  high  desk,  reached  by  a  staircase  or 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  127 


ladder,  with  a  sounding  board  over  it.  There  was 
no  heat  in  these  early  churches,  for  a  heating  stove 
was  unknown.  The  chill  of  the  building,  —  dark 
and  closed  all  the  week,  and  damp  from  the 
shadowed  grove,  —  was  hard  for  every  one  to  stand. 
To  keep  from  suffering  during  the  long  service,  the 
women  put  their  feet  in  bags,  made  of  fur  and 
filled  with  wool.  Dogs  were  allowed  so  that  their 
masters  might  put  their  feet  under  them.  In  fact, 
churches  appointed  dog  whippers  to  control  the 
dogs  or  to  drive  them  out  if  they  became  noisy 
and  unbearable.  Some  of  the  women  and  children 
had  foot  stoves,  which  were  little  metal  boxes  on 
legs,  with  small  holes  in  the  top  and  sides,  and 
with  hot  coals  inside. 

The  services  were  very  long,  no  matter  how  cold 
it  was.  The  snow  might  be  falling  and  the  wind 
blowing,  but  the  people  had  to  wrap  up  in  their 
furs,  snuggle  down  in  the  benches,  and  listen  to  a 
sermon  two  or  three  hours  long.  Sometimes  a 
single  prayer  lasted  an  hour,  while  the  people 
knelt  on  the  bare  floor.  When  a  church  was  dedi- 
cated, the  sermon  generally  lasted  three  or  four 
hours.  We  might  well  wonder  what  the  preacher 
could  find  to  say,  that  it  took  so  long  a  time  to 
say  it! 

There  was  a  tithing-man,  whose  duty  it  was  to 


128  AMERICA  FIRST 


maintain  order,  and  also  to  keep  everybody  awake. 
The  men  sat  on  one  side  of  the  church,  the  women 
sat  on  the  other,  while  the  boys  and  girls  were 
made  to  sit  near  the  pulpit.  Up  in  the  loft  were 
places  for  the  negroes  and  the  Indians.  The  tith- 
ing-man  kept  close  watch  for  sleepers.  He  had  a 
long  stick,  with  a  rabbit's  foot  on  one  end  and  a 
rabbit's  tail  on  the  other.  If  a  man  nodded,  or  a 
boy  made  a  noise,  the  tithing-man  struck  him  a 
sharp  blow  on  the  head.  If  an  old  lady  closed 
her  eyes,  the  tithing-man  gently  tickled  her  nose 
with  the  rabbit's  tail.  He  was  generally  kept 
pretty  busy  toward  the  end  of  a  long  sermon! 

During  the  noon  intermission,  in  the  winter 
time,  the  half  frozen  congregation  w^ent  to  the 
nearest  house  or  tavern  to  get  warm,  and  to  eat  a 
simple  Sunday  meal.  In  summertime,  they  sat  on 
the  green  and  talked  in  low,  solemn  tones.  After 
tw^o  hours'  intermission,  the  congregation  assembled 
again,  and  the  dreary  service  was  resumed.  The 
singing  was  very  doleful.  There  were  few  books, 
so  the  deacon  or  leader  gave  out  the  hymn,  a  line 
or  two  at  a  time.  Often,  the  singing  of  these 
psalms  or  hymns  lasted  a  half-hour,  during  which 
the  people  stood.  Altogether,  w^e  can  easily  see 
that  a  Sunday  service,  morning  and  afternoon, 
would  last  seven  hours. 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  129 

In  all  the  Colonies,  Sunday  was  strictly  ob- 
served. Any  unseemly  conduct  was  punished  by 
whipping  or  by  fire.  It  was  forbidden  to  fish, 
shoot,  sail,  row  a  boat,  or  do  any  kind  of  work 
on  that  day.  Horses  were  used  only  to  drive  or 
ride  to  church.  There  was  little  or  no  cooking, 
but  everybody  ate  cold  food  on  the  Lord's  Day. 
No  one  was  allowed  to  use  tobacco  near  any  meet- 
ing-house. The  Sabbath  began  at  sunset,  on  Satur- 
day, and  lasted  until  sunset,  on  Sunday. 

After  the  Colonists  grew  better  off,  they  built 
larger  and  better  churches,  sometimes  of  stone,  or 
brick,  and  often  beautiful  in  their  stately  architec- 
ture. Many  of  these  churches  are  preserved  at  the 
present  day,  with  their  high  pulpits,  and  their  big, 
stiff  back  benches,  or  box  pews,  for  the  whole 
family.  In  all  of  them,  however,  the  same  severity 
of  worship  was  observed,  for  it  was  thought  thereby 
to  make  a  God-fearing  and  God-serving  people. 


THE   SALEM  WITCHES 

In  olden  times  nearly  everybody  believed  in 
witches.  These  w^itches  were  supposed  to  have 
sold  their  souls  to  the  devil,  and  to  have  received 
from  him  power  to  ride  through  the  air  on  broom- 


130  AMERICA   FIRST 


sticks.  With  "the  evil  eye,"  they  could  make 
people  ill,  they  could  destroy  cattle  by  mysterious 
diseases,  they  could  blight  the  crops,  and  do  other 
impossible  and  dreadful  things.  They  were  sup- 
posed to  have  meetings  at  night,  when  the  devil 
came  and  they  received  the  witches'  sacrament. 
Consequently,  everybody  was  afraid  of  a  witch, 
and  nobody  wanted  to  be  called  one. 

The  witches  were  blamed  for  everything  that 
went  wrong.  If  children  fell  suddenly  ill,  if  a 
horse  became  lame,  if  a  house  burned  down,  if  the 
butter  would  not  churn,  if  the  cart  stuck  in  the 
mud,  the  explanation  always  was,  "A  witch  did 
it." 

Generally,  women,  or  old  men,  or  ugly,  deformed 
persons  were  accused  of  being  witches;  but  some- 
times suspicion  fastened  upon  younger  persons, 
and  even  upon  those  in  high  authority.  To  test 
whether  a  person  was  a  witch  or  not,  pins  were 
stuck  into  the  body  to  find  a  place  where  it  did 
not  hurt.  These  were  spots  where  the  devil's 
hands  had  touched  the  witch.  Another  test  was 
by  water.  The  supposed  witch  was  thrown  into 
the  water;  if  she  sank  and  was  drowned,  she  was 
innocent;  if  she  floated,  she  was  assuredly  a  witch 
and  must  be  burned. 

The  belief   in  witchcraft    and   in    the   punishing 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  131 

of  witches  was  nowhere  stronger  than  in  Salem, 
Massachusetts.  The  least  suspicious  circumstance 
was  sufficient  for  an  accusation.  A  young  girl, 
thirteen  years  of  age,  accused  a  laundress  of  hav- 
ing stolen  linen  from  the  family.  The  mother  of 
the  laundress  rebuked  the  girl  severely  for  this 
false  charge.  The  girl  became  immediately  be- 
w^itched,  or  said  she  was,  which  amounted  to  the 
same  thing.  Others  in  her  family  began  to  act 
strangely.  Some  grew  deaf,  then  dumb,  then  blind. 
They  barked  like  dogs  and  purred  like  cats  if  any- 
body came  near. 

The  town  went  w^ild  with  excitement  over  the 
bewitched  family.  The  poor  mother  of  the  laun- 
dress, who  w^as  nothing  but  a  harmless  and  illiter- 
ate old  w^oman,  and  who  had  tried  to  defend  her 
daughter  from  the  charge  of  stealing  linen,  was 
accused  of  being  a  witch.  She  was  tried,  con- 
victed, and  executed. 

Shortly  afterwards,  the  child  of  the  minister, 
nine  years  old,  and  his  niece,  twelve  years  old, 
began  to  act  queerly  and  to  suffer  great  pains. 
There  was  nothing  the  matter  wdth  them  that  a 
httle  medicine  would  not  have  cured,  but  they 
chose  to  think  themselves  bewitched.  A  half-breed 
Indian  woman,  a  servant  in  the  house,  was  also 
accused,  and,  being  whipped,   she  tried  to  secure 


132  AMERICA  FIRST 


her  release  by  confessing  that  she  was  really  a 
witch.  Of  course  she  was  not,  but  the  poor 
creature  would  say  anything  to  save  herself  from 
torture.  The  two  children  were  the  two  most  con- 
spicuous figures  in  the  village;  they  had  "fits"  and 
everybody  came  to  the  house  to  see  them.  They 
were  generally  accommodating  to  all  beholders! 

An  epidemic  of  witches  now  broke  out  in  the 
village.  Any  one  who  desired  notoriety,  or  who 
wished  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  another,  would 
fall  down  in  a  fit  and  cry  out,  "Witch!  Witch!" 
The  excited  town  folk  would  set  upon  the  poor 
accused  one,  throw  him  in  prison,  and  often  string 
him  up  on  the  gallows. 

An  old  farmer,  who  did  not  believe  in  witches, 
cured  his  Indian  servant  by  a  good  beating.  "I'll 
flog  the  witch  out  of  you,"  he  cried;  and  before 
long  the  Indian  was  perfectly  well.  But  this 
brought  down  the  people's  wrath  upon  the  old 
farmer.  They  said,  "He  is  a  witch  himself,  for  he 
rebukes  the  disease  in  others."  And  forthwith  the 
farmer  and  his  wife  found  themselves  in  the  com- 
mon jail. 

So  it  went,  until  nineteen  persons  were  put  to 
death  on  the  accusation  of  being  witches.  One  poor 
old  man,  who  stoutly  maintained  that  nobody  was 
a  witch,  was  pressed  to  death  between  two  doors! 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  133 


One  hundred  and  fifty  people  were  thrown  into 
prison;  so  many  indeed  that  the  jail  was  full  to 
overflowing.  Two  hundred  and  more  were  ac- 
cused and  left  outside  the  jail  for  lack  of  room. 
It  seemed  as  though  everybody  in  Salem,  sooner 
or  later,  would  have  to  stand  trial  for  being  a 
witch. 

At  last,  when  they  began  to  accuse  persons  of 
high  rank,  such  as  one  of  the  Judges,  the  wife  of 
the  Governor,  and  the  wife  of  the  minister  himself, 
it  brought  the  people  to  their  senses.  Suddenly  it 
occurred  to  them  what  fools  they  had  been.  Then 
the  jails  were  opened,  and  the  poor  people  inside 
were  set  free,  and  allowed  to  go  about  their  busi- 
ness. The  children  who  pretended  they  were  under 
a  spell  were  punished;  and  soon  there  was  nobody 
under  accusation. 

Since  then,  no  one  has  really  believed  in  witches. 
There  never  was,  nor  ever  can  be,  such  evil  beings, 
and  the  people  in  Salem  would  have  been  spared 
much  folly  and  misery  if  they  had  known  it.  In 
Salem,  there  stands  to  this  day  one  of  the  old 
houses,  and  it  is  pointed  out  as  ''The  Witch 
House." 


134  a:merica  first 


TRAVELING  BY  STAGE-COACH 

In  early  Colonial  days,  the  pioneers  had  to  walk 
or  go  by  canoe  from  one  village  or  settlement  to 
another.  Later  on,  the  trails  were  improved  to  the 
extent  that  horses  could  be  used;  and  for  a  long 
time  this  was  the  only  means  of  travel.  Women 
and  children  usually  rode  on  a  pillion,  or  on 
cushions  behind  a  man.  Sometimes  pack  horses 
followed,  carrying  the  household  goods,  or  provi- 
sions for  the  journey. 

One  way  by  which  four  persons  could  ride,  at 
least  part  of  the  distance,  was  known  as  the  "ride- 
and-tie  system."  Two  of  the  four  persons  started 
ahead  on  foot.  The  other  tw^o,  mounted  on  the 
saddle  and  pillion,  rode  about  a  mile  past  the  two 
who  were  walking,  dismounted,  tied  the  horse  and 
walked  on.  When  the  two,  who  had  first  started, 
came  to  the  w^aiting  horse,  they  mounted,  rode  on 
past  the  walking  two  ahead  of  them  for  a  mile  or 
more,  dismounted,  tied  the  horse  and  again  pro- 
ceeded to  walk.  In  this  way,  all  four  rode  half 
the  distance,  and  the  horse  had  a  rest  every  few 
miles. 

The  mail,  what  there  was  of  it,  was  carried  by 
post-riders   on   horseback.     The   postage   was   very 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  135 


high,  and  was  paid  for  by  the  person  receiving  the 
letter, —  if  he  ever  received  it!  It  took  about  a 
month  to  send  a  letter  from  New  York  to  Boston, 
and  to  get  a  reply.  The  mail  generally  lay  in  the 
post-rider's  house  till  he  had  enough  to  pay  for 
the  trip.  When  the  mail  was  dehvered,  it  was  laid 
on  the  table  at  an  inn,  and  any  one  could  have  his 
letter  by  paying  the  innkeeper  the  postage. 

After  the  Revolution,  the  roads  were  widened 
and  made  better  than  the  old  trails.  Hence, 
wagons,  or  stage-coaches,  came  into  use  for  trans- 
portation. Traveling  by  stage-coach  lasted  until 
the  time  of  the  railroads,  and  indeed  still  later  in 
some  places  in  the  West.  The  stage  between  New 
York  and  Philadelphia  made  the  trip  in  two  days, 
provided  the  weather  was  good.  From  New  York 
to  Boston  took  a  week's  hard  riding. 

A  passenger  from  Boston  to  New  York  thus  de- 
scribes his  journey: 

"The  carriages  were  old  and  shackhng,  and  much 
of  the  harness  made  up  of  ropes.  One  pair  of 
horses  carried  us  eighteen  miles.  We  generally 
reached  our  resting  place  for  the  night,  if  no  acci- 
dent interfered,  at  ten  o'clock,  and,  after  a  frugal 
supper,  went  to  bed,  with  a  notice  that  we  should 
be  called  at  three  next  morning,  which  generally 
proved  to  be  half  past  two.     And  then,   whether 


136  A3IERICA  FIRST 


it  snowed  or  rained,  the  traveler  must  rise  and 
make  ready,  by  the  help  of  a  lantern  and  a  farth- 
ing candle,  and  proceed  on  his  way  over  bad  roads, 
sometimes  getting  out  to  help  the  coachman  lift 
the  coach  out  of  a  quagmire  or  rut,  and  arrived 
in  New  York  after  a  week's  hard  traveling,  won- 
dering at  the  ease,  as  well  as  the  expedition,  with 
which  the  journey  was  effected." 

On  good  days,  in  the  spring  and  summer,  travel 
by  stagecoach  was  not  disagreeable.  The  horses 
were  generally  good  and  strong,  and  the  coach 
rattled  along  fairly  well.  The  driver  had  a  long 
horn  which  he  blew  when  he  approached  a  stop- 
ping-place, so  as  to  let  the  people  know  the  stage 
was  coming.  The  stops  were  frequent,  and  when 
the  coach  drove  up  to  a  tavern  or  inn,  the  passen- 
gers would  get  out  for  a  meal,  or  else  stretch  them- 
selves by  taking  a  short  walk. 

Some  of  the  turnpikes  were  beautiful  and  splen- 
did roads.  The  way  from  Albany  to  Schenectady, 
New  York,  ran  in  a  straight  line,  between  rows  of 
poplars,  with  many  taverns  along  the  route.  Re- 
lays of  horses  were  provided  every  ten  miles;  teams 
were  changed  in  a  few  minutes;  and  with  blowing 
of  horns  the  coach  would  merrily  depart.  It  was 
not  at  all  unusual,  over  the  fine  roads,  to  make 
one  hundred  miles  in  twenty -four  hours. 


'All  the  weather  was  not  Springtime. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  137 

But  all  the  roads  were  not  good  ones;  some  of 
them  were  very  bad  indeed.  And  all  the  weather 
was  not  spring  time!  In  the  dead  of  winter,  over 
a  bad  road,  a  stagecoach  was  anything  but  pleasant 
to  ride  in.  There  was  no  way  of  heating  it,  and 
the  passengers  had  to  endure  hours  of  freezing  cold, 
with  much  jolting  and  hard  pulling  over  bad  places. 
Sometimes,  the  coach  stuck  hard  and  fast  in  the 
mud,  when  all  hands  had  to  get  out  and  pull  and 
dig  until  the  wheels  were  released. 

Sometimes  the  driver  had  to  call  to  the  passen- 
gers to  lean  out  of  the  carriage,  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other,  to  prevent  it  from  over- 
turning or  sticking  in  a  ditch.  "Gentlemen,  to  the 
right,"  he  would  call,  upon  which  all  the  passen- 
gers would  rush  to  the  right  and  lean  out  of  the 
windows  to  balance  things.  "Now,  gentlemen,  to 
the  left,"  he  would  say,  and  the  same  thing  would 
be  done  on  the  left  side. 

Along  the  road  were  inns  or  taverns  for  the 
travelers.  Here,  the  weary  passengers  could  take 
their  meals,  get  warm  by  the  fire,  and  find  a  bed 
at  night.  The  cooking  was  good,  the  food  abun- 
dant, and  the  beds  usually  comfortable.  The  charge 
was  not  high.  One  can  well  imagine  how  welcome 
these  wayside  taverns  were  to  the  cold,  hungry, 
and  tired  folks,  when  they  drove  up  at  dark  on  a 


138  AMERICA  FIRST 


winter's  day,  to  find  a  blazing  fire  in  the  big  front 
room  with  its  raftered  ceiHngs,  a  hot  supper  ready 
on  the  table,  and  a  warm  bed  to  sleep  in.  ^^^lat 
matter  if  they  did  have  to  rise  by  candle  Hght, 
and  be  on  their  way!  Nobody  traveled  for  pleas- 
ure, anyway,  in  those  days,  and  so  necessity  made 
the  hardships  endurable. 

Many  of  these  taverns  had  very  curious  signs 
hanging  outside,  with  names  upon  them,  such  as 
"The  Red  Horse,"  "The  Bear  and  Eagle,"  "The 
Anchor,"  "The  Blue  Jay,"  "The  Twin  Bogs";  and 
often  these  signs  would  be  painted  to  represent  the 
name  itself.  Even  the  rooms  were  sometimes 
named,  instead  of  being  numbered,  as  in  modern 
hotels.  Such  names  as  the  "Star  Chamber,"  "Rose 
Room,"  "Sunrise  Room,"  "Blue  Room,"  and  even 
"Jerusalem  Room"  were  common. 

As  one  journeyed  south,  the  roads  were  not  so 
good  and  the  taverns  less  frequent;  because  few 
people  traveled  by  stages  in  the  southern  country. 
Those  who  traveled  at  all  went  in  their  own 
coaches,  or  by  horseback.  But  there  were  some 
coaches  going  over  the  rough  highways,  and  it  was 
the  universal  custom  for  the  planters  to  open  their 
doors  for  meals  and  lodging.  Eager  for  news  and 
company  they  would  order  their  negroes  to  stand 
at  the  gates,  and  to  invite  the  passers-by  to  come 
into  the  house  to  be  entertained. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  139 

Gone  is  the  old  stage-coach,  with  its  picturesque 
history!  Nowadays  we  speed  at  the  rate  of  a  mile 
a  minute  over  smooth  rails,  and  lay  down  to  sleep 
to  find  ourselves  several  hundred  miles  away  when 
we  awake  in  the  morning. 


KING   GEORGE  AND  THE  COLONIES 

We  must  not  get  the  idea  that  the  Colonies  in 
America  were  disloyal  in  their  allegiance  to  the 
mother  country.  On  the  contrary,  they  loved  the 
Old  England  from  which  their  fathers  came,  and 
looked  forward  to  a  happy  development  under  the 
British  flag. 

It  was  not  the  Enghsh  people,  but  the  Enghsh 
King,  George  III,  who  caused  all  the  trouble.  He 
had  ascended  the  throne  when  he  was  twenty-two 
years  of  age.  He  was  nearly  forty  when  the  Revo- 
lution began.  He  was  obstinate  and  short-sighted 
in  dealing  with  his  subjects.  He  beheved  in  the 
right  of  kings  to  have  their  own  way  and  to 
him  the  will  of  the  people  counted  for  nothing 
as  against  the  will  of  the  King.  Whatever 
George  III  wanted,  he  propos'ed  to  have  people  or 
no  people.  Colonies  or  no  Colonies.  Kings  do  not 
act  that  way  nowadays,  but  then  it  was  different. 


140  AMERICA   FIRST 


When  he  came  to  the  throne  his  mother  said  to 
him,  "George  be  a  king."  She  taught  him  to 
think  that  he  owned  his  people,  and  that  they 
should  always  do  his  will. 

Instead  of  choosing  the  w^isest  and  best  men  in 
the  kingdom  to  be  his  advisers  and  ministers, 
George  III  turned  to  the  weaker  men,  who  flattered 
him  and  who  were  ready  to  do  his  bidding.  It  was 
always  one  of  the  '* King's  friends"  who  proposed 
in  Parliament  the  obnoxious  measures  against 
America.  Finally,  the  King  succeeded  in  getting  a 
Prime  Minister,  Lord  North,  who  was  willing,  in 
all  things,  to  do  as  his  sovereign  wished.  In  fact, 
someone  has  said  that,  while  North  was  in  office, 
"the  King  was  his  own  Prime  Minister." 

In  spite  of  the  protest  of  some  really  great  men 
in  England,  who  knew  the  Colonists  were  ill- 
treated,  the  King  went  blindly  and  obstinately  to 
work,  until  the  Colonies  in  America  were  in  com- 
plete revolt. 

To  see  how  poorly  the  great  mass  of  the  people 
of  England  was  represented  in  their  Parliament,  we 
should  know  that,  when  George  III  came  to  the 
throne,  there  was  a  most  unequal  distribution  of 
seats  in  the  House  of  Commons.  For  two  hundred 
years,  no  changes  had  been  made  in  the  allotment 
of  seats  according  to  the  number  of  the  population. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  141 

Some  very  large  cities,  like  Manchester  and  Shef- 
field, that  had  grown  up  in  the  meantime,  had  no 
representatives  at  all,  while  some  very  small  and 
old  places  had  several  representatives.  One  town, 
named  Old  Sarum,  went  on  sending  members  to 
Parliament  long  after  it  had  ceased  to  have  any 
inhabitants  at  all. 

The  result  w^as  that  many  members  represented 
only  a  handful  of  voters,  many  seats  in  Parliament 
were  bought  and  sold,  and  some  were  given  away, 
as  favors.  This  made  an  assembly  of  representa- 
tives that  did  not  truly  represent  the  great  body 
of  the  people,  and  it,  therefore,  became  easy  for  the 
King  to  secure  such  laws  as  he  and  his  friends  wanted. 

Was  it  not  natural  that  a  corrupt  Parliament 
should  do  George  Ill's  own  bidding?  He  united, 
with  the  ruling  class,  to  suppress  public  opinion  in 
England,  and  self-government  in  America.  He  be- 
gan to  rule  the  Colonies  by  royal  orders,  and  sent 
instructions,  over  his  own  signature,  to  be  obeyed 
in  America;  otherwise,  so  he  threatened,  military 
force  would  be  used  to  make  the  people  obey. 
Colonial  assemblies  were  dissolved,  unusual  places 
of  meeting  were  appointed,  orders  wxre  issued, 
lands  w^ere  granted  or  taken  away,  and  by  many 
other  acts  the  Colonists  were  treated  without 
consideration. 


142  AMERICA  FIRST 


But  the  Colonists  had  many  friends  among  the 
Enghsh  people,  who  sympathized  with  them  in 
their  opposition  to  the  tyranny  of  the  King  and 
his  Parliament.  They  were  still  English  people  and 
English  subjects,  though  their  home  was  across  the 
sea,  and  they  had  rights  that  their  relatives  and 
friends  in  England  thought  should  be  respected. 
So  there  were  many  in  the  old  country  who  believed 
that  the  Colonists  were  right  to  oppose  the  King; 
some  voices  in  Parliament  even  spoke  out  bravely 
in  their  defense. 

One  great  Englishman,  William  Pitt,  who  was 
the  Earl  of  Chatham,  declared  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  ''This  kingdom  has  no  right  to  lay  a  tax 
upon  the  Colonies.  I  rejoice  that  America  has  re- 
sisted." After  the  Revolutionary  War  had  begun, 
and  the  King  had  been  forced  to  hire  about  20,000 
German  troops  from  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  be- 
cause the  English  simply  would  not  enlist  for  this 
unpopular  war,  Pitt  said,  in  another  speech, 

"My  Lords,  you  cannot  conquer  America.  In 
three  years'  campaign,  we  have  done  nothing  and 
suffered  much.  You  may  swell  every  expense,  ac- 
cumulate every  assistance  you  can  buy  or  borrow^ 
traffic  and  barter  with  every  Httle  pitiful  German 
prince,  but  your  efforts  are  forever  vain  and  im- 
potent, doubly  so  from  this  mercenary  aid  on  which 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  U3 

you  rely,  for  it  irritates  to  an  incurable  resentment. 
If  I  were  an  American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman, 
while  a  foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my  country,  I 
would  never  lay  down  my  arms,  —  never,  never, 
never." 

WTiile  the  Stamp  Act  was  being  debated  in  Par- 
liament, Colonel  Barre,  who  had  fought  by  the 
side  of  Wolfe  at  Quebec,  replied  to  the  statement 
that  the  Colonies  were  children  "planted  by  our 
care,  nourished  by  our  indulgence,  and  protected 
by  our  arms,"  by  exclaiming  with  great  eloquence, 

"They  planted  by  your  care!  No,  your  oppres- 
sion planted  them  in  America.  Nourished  by  your 
indulgence!  They  grew  up  by  your  neglect  of 
them.  They  protected  by  your  arms!  Those  sons 
of  liberty  have  nobly  taken  up  arms  in  your 
defense." 

The  expression,  "Sons  of  Liberty,"  became  a 
popular  rallying  cry  of  the  Patriots  in  America. 

The  quarrel  between  King  George  III  and  the 
American  Colonists  grew  into  the  Revolutionary 
War.  During  that  W'ar,  the  Colonists  had  many 
friends  in  England,  especially  in  the  city  of  Lon- 
don. As  he  walked  through  the  streets,  Wilham 
Pitt  was  loudly  cheered  for  the  part  he  took  in 
defending  the  cause  of  the  Colonists.  When  the 
war  was  over,  many  in  England  were  secretly  re- 


144  AMERICA  FIRST 


joiced  that  the  Colonies  were  independent,  and 
that  the  will  of  the  foolish  King  was  at  last 
broken. 


PATRICK  HENRY  AND  THE  PARSON'S 
CAUSE 

Among  the  noted  men  in  the  history  of  the 
struggle  of  the  American  Colonies  against  the 
tyranny  of  the  King  of  England,  none  occupies  a 
more  striking  position  than  Patrick  Henry,  the 
great  orator  of  Virginia. 

His  father  was  a  magistrate,  of  an  old  Scotch 
family,  whose  lack  of  means  kept  his  son,  Patrick, 
from  an  education  in  college.  However,  young 
Henry  studied  at  home,  and  acquired  a  fair  educa- 
tion. He  seemed  to  be  ill-fitted  for  business  of 
any  kind.  He  kept  a  country  store  and  failed; 
he  tried  farming  and  failed;  then  he  went  back 
to  keeping  a  store  and  failed  again.  He  became 
discouraged  and  idle,  and  began  passing  his  time 
fishing  and  hunting  and  telling  humorous  stories  to 
idle  companions  around  the  village  inn. 

Finally,  he  turned  to  the  law.  After  studying 
for  a  few  weeks,  he  was  examined,  and  allowed  to 
begin  practice.     It  was  four  years,  however,  before 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  145 

he  gave  any  evidence  to  the  world  that  he  pos- 
sessed those  marvelous  powers  of  oratory  that  have 
made  him  famous. 

Now,  let  us  see  how  Henry  won  reputation  in 
the  Parson's  Cause.  From  the  beginning,  the  Colo- 
nists of  Virginia  were  accustomed  to  pay  the 
preacher's  salary  in  tobacco.  Each  parish  minister 
received  so  much  tobacco  out  of  the  amount  raised 
by  the  tobacco  tax.  If  the  price  of  tobacco  was 
high,  the  minister  had  the  benefit  of  the  high  price. 
If  the  price  w^as  low,  he  suffered  accordingly.  For 
a  long  time  the  ministers  took  their  chances  on  the 
tobacco  market,  and  lived  in  abundance  or  in 
want,  as  the  market  price  went  up  or  do^n.  At 
best,  however,  their  salaries  w^ere  never  munificent. 

In  the  year  1748,  an  Act  was  passed,  fixing  the 
annual  salary  of  each  parish  minister  at  16,000 
pounds  of  tobacco.  This  Act  was  approved  by 
the  King,  and  became  the  law  in  Virginia.  Each 
minister  was  allotted  his  tobacco  salary,  which  he 
sold  at  whatever  price  he  could  get.  This  went  on 
for  a  while,  until  the  Legislature  passed  another 
Act,  paying  the  minister's  salary  in  paper  money, 
at  a  fixed  price  per  pound  for  tobacco.  This  fixed 
price  was  always  lower  than  the  market  price,  and 
reduced  the  minister's  salary  very  much. 

The  Act  was  clearly  unconstitutional,  for  it  did 


146  AMERICA  FIRST 


not  have  the  consent  of  the  King,  and,  therefore, 
could  not  be  law.  Besides,  it  was  manifestly  unjust 
to  the  ministers  who  w^ere  employed  under  a  to- 
bacco contract,  and  not  under  a  paper  money  con- 
tract. However,  the  people  did  not  care,  for  the 
ministers  were  unpopular.  And  as  for  the  King  and 
his  consent  the  Colonies  were  rapidly  becoming  re- 
bellious of  his  authority. 

The  ministers  had  to  take  paper  money  for  their 
salaries,  or  receive  none  at  all.  They  complained 
to  the  Legislature,  but  could  get  no  hearing.  They 
complained  to  the  Governor,  but  he  gave  them  no 
consolation.  They  sent  some  of  their  own  num- 
ber to  England  to  lay  the  matter  before  the  King's 
Council.  There  they  were  told  that  their  cause 
was  just,  and  that  they  had  a  right  to  sue  for 
damages  in  the  Courts  of  Virginia,  ^^^lereupon 
they  returned  home  to  begin  their  suits. 

One  of  the  cases  w^as  brought  by  Rev.  James 
Maury  into  the  Court  of  Hanover  County.  The 
Judge  promptly  decided  that  the  Act,  paying  the 
salaries  in  paper  money,  was  no  law,  and  that  the 
ministers  were  clearly  entitled  to  damages  to  be 
fixed  by  a  special  jury.  The  case  of  the  people 
against  Maury  seemed  hopeless,  especially  as  it 
was  very  easy  to  calculate  the  difference  between 
the   value    of   the    tobacco    and   the   value    of   the 


STORIES  OF  OUR  0^^N   HISTORY  147 

paper  money  paid.  However,  a  jury  was  drawn, 
and  the  desperate  cause  of  the  people  against  the 
clergy  was  committed  to  Patrick  Henry,  then  al- 
most unknown  as  a  lawyer  and  advocate.  Indeed, 
no  other  counsel  or  lawyer  would  take  the  case,  as 
they  said  it  was  a  hopeless  one,  and  the  people 
had  better  pay  and  be  done  wdth  it. 

Now  comes  the  story  of  how  the  world  found 
out  the  marvelous  powers  of  oratory  possessed  by 
Patrick  Henry.  On  the  day  of  trial,  the  court- 
room w^as  crowded  with  people,  the  clergy  being 
there  in  force  to  witness  the  triumph  of  one  of 
their  number.  On  the  bench  sat  Henry's  father, 
the  presiding  Judge  of  the  trial,  who  looked  with 
much  distrust  upon  the  ability  of  his  son  to  de- 
fend the  people's  cause. 

No  one  had  heard  Henry  speak  before  a  jury. 
He  w^as  considered  an  idle  young  man,  of  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age,  without  learning  or  ability. 
He  was  badly  dressed,  and  appeared  ill  at  ease. 
\ATien  he  arose  to  speak,  he  did  so  very  awkwardly, 
and  began  in  a  stammering  and  hesitating  man- 
ner; so  much  so  that  the  ministers  smiled,  the 
people  looked  disappointed,  and  his  father  sank 
back  in  his  chair  mortified. 

But  wait,  let  us  see  what  happened!  In  a  few 
minutes,  the  young  orator  forgot  his  awkwardness. 


148  .AJMERICA   FIRST 


and  ceased  his  stammering.  His  form  straightened 
up,  and  his  eyes  began  to  flash,  as  he  unrolled  his 
invectives  against  the  King,  and  narrated  the 
grievances  of  the  Colonies.  He  did  not  hesitate  to 
call  the  King  a  tyrant,  who  had  forfeited  all  right 
to  obedience.  His  face  began  to  shine  with  a 
nobleness  and  grandeur  which  no  one  ever  saw 
before,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  hold  the  hghtning 
of  wrath  and  power.  His  actions  were  graceful, 
bold,  and  commanding.  For  an  hour  he  spoke, 
while  the  crowd  listened  as  if  under  the  spell  of 
some  enchantment.  One  of  them  said,  ''He  made 
my  blood  run  cold  and  my  hair  stand  on  end." 
As  for  his  father,  such  was  his  surprise  and  joy 
that.  Judge  though  he  was,  he  allowed  tears  of 
happiness  to  run  down  his  cheeks. 

^^^len  Henry  had  finished  his  great  oration,  the 
jury  was  so  overw^helmed  by  his  arguments  that 
they  voted  Rev.  Maury  just  one  penny  damage 
whereas  his  suit  had  been  for  many  pounds.  In 
this  way  did  Patrick  Henry  begin  that  marvelous 
career  w^hich  made  him  one  of  the  greatest  orators 
this  country  has  ever  produced. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  149 


PAUL  REVERE'S  RIDE 

On  the  night  of  April  18,  1775,  in  a  suburb  of 
Charlestown,  just  outside  of  Boston,  stood  a  strong 
and  keen-eyed  man  beside  a  restless  horse,  ready 
at  a  moment's  notice  to  mount  and  ride  hard  upon 
some  secret  mission.  His  eye  was  fixed  upon  the 
distant  steeple  of  a  church,  scarcely  to  be  seen  in 
the  darkness,  as  if  he  expected  some  signal  to  make 
him  spring  into  instant  action. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Into  the  night  there 
suddenly  flashed  the  rays  from  two  lanterns;  as 
soon  as  he  saw  them,  he  grasped  the  reins  of  the 
bridle,  leaped  into  the  saddle,  and  rode  swiftly 
away.  The  man's  name  was  Paul  Revere.  The 
signal  was  from  the  steeple  of  the  Old  North 
Church,  in  Boston,  and  it  had  been  placed  there 
by  a  friendly  hand  to  let  Revere  know  that  the 
British  troops  were  moving  silently  out  of  Boston 
to  capture  the  mihtary  stores  which  the  Patriots 
of  the  Revolution  had  at  Concord,  about  nineteen 
miles  away. 

Swiftly  his  horse  bore  Revere  past  Charlestown 
Neck.  Suddenly  two  British  oflScers  appeared  in 
his  path. 


150  ajMERICA  first 


"'Halt!  who  goes  there?"  was  the  stern  command. 

Revere  made  no  answer,  but  turned  his  horse's 
head,  and  went  flying  back  to  seek  another  road. 
The  oflScers  started  in  swift  pursuit,  calhng  out, 
''Halt,  or  we  fire!" 

Revere  paid  no  attention  to  them,  but,  spurring 
his  horse  onward,  turned  into  Medford  Road. 
One  of  the  officers  tried  to  intercept  him  by  a 
short  cut  across  the  field,  but,  in  the  darkness,  he 
fell  into  a  clay-pit,  where  Revere  left  him  as  he 
went  thundering  by. 

On  he  went,  mile  after  mile,  intent  upon  arousing 
the  people.  At  every  house  he  stopped,  rapped 
furiously  on  the  door,  or  called  out  from  the  road- 
side, "Get  up,  and  arm  yourselves.  The  Regulars 
are  marching  to  Concord!"  And  then  he  would 
dash  away,  leaving  the  occupants  to  rise  and 
hastily  dress  themselves. 

The  British  marched  out  of  Boston  about  mid- 
night. Just  at  that  hour,  Revere  rode  into  Lex- 
ington with  a  great  clatter  of  hoofs  upon  the 
streets.  He  galloped  up  to  the  house  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Clarke,  where  Samuel  Adams  and  John  Han- 
cock, two  leading  Patriots,  were  asleep. 

"Don't  make  so  much  noise,"  called  out  the 
guard  in  front  of  the  house,  "you  will  awake  the 
inmates." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  151 

"Noise!"  exclaimed  Revere.  "You'll  have  noise 
enough  before  long.     The  Regulars  are  coming!" 

At  that  moment,  a  window  was  thrown  open, 
and  John  Hancock,  looking  out,  inquired  what 
was  the  matter.  Recognizing  Revere,  he  directed 
the  guard  to  open  the  door,  and  admit  the  messen- 
ger, who  soon  told  his  startling  tale.  Hancock  and 
Adams  quickly  dressed,  and,  while  Revere  set  out 
again  on  his  journey,  these  two  Patriots  left  Lex- 
ington to  avoid  capture. 

Revere  was  now  joined  by  another  rider,  named 
Dawes,  who  had  left  Boston  at  the  same  time  by 
a  different  route.  Upon  these  two  was  put  the 
responsibility  of  arousing  the  people.  From  every 
house  the  good  men  of  the  countryside  rushed  out 
when  they  heard  the  news.  The  Minute  Men 
began  to  gather,  with  such  guns  as  they  had,  and 
by  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  over  a  hundred  of 
them  had  met  upon  the  green  in  Lexington.  As 
no  foe  was  in  sight,  and  as  the  air  was  cold,  they 
disbanded  to  assemble  again  at  the  sound  of  the 
drum. 

Meanwhile,  Revere  and  Dawes  rode  toward  Con- 
cord, six  miles  off.  On  their  way,  they  fell  in  with 
Dr.  Samuel  Prescott,  to  whom  they  told  their 
story  as  the  three  rode  along.  Suddenly,  a  group 
of    British    oflRcers    appeared    in    the    road    before 


152  AMERICA  FIRST 


them,  and  laid  their  hands  upon  Revere  and 
Dawes,  who  were  a  httle  in  advance.  This  oc- 
curred so  unexpectedly  that  escape  was  impossible 
for  those  two.  But  Dr.  Prescott  urged  his  horse 
over  a  stone  wall,  and  was  well  away  before  he 
could  be  stopped.  He  alone  bore  the  news  to  the 
people  of  Concord. 

AMien  Prescott  arrived,  at  about  two  in  the 
morning,  he  at  once  gave  the  alarm.  The  bells 
were  rung,  and  the  people  rushed  toward  the  center 
square  where  Dr.  Prescott  addressed  them. 

"The  Regulars  are  on  their  way  to  capture  the 
stores  in  the  warehouse,"  he  declared.  "They  may 
now^  be  in  Lexington,  and  it  is  certain  they  will  be 
here  before  long.  Revere  and  Dawes  brought  me 
word.  We  must  remove  the  stores  before  the 
British  arrive." 

This  was  enough.  It  did  not  take  the  people  of 
Concord  many  hours  to  put  the  precious  stores  in 
a  place  of  safety. 

Meantime,  the  British  had  come  to  the  out- 
skirts of  Lexington.  It  was  about  daybreak,  and 
the  drum-beat  called  the  Colonists  together  on  the 
village  green.  There  were  about  one  hundred  stern 
and  determined  Patriots,  facing  five  or  six  hundred 
British  troops.  The  moment  was  one  of  intense 
excitement,  for  both  sides  knew  it  meant  war  if  a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  153 

shot  was  fired.  Captain  John  Parker,  in  command 
of  the  mihtia,  said  to  his  men: 

"Stand  your  ground;  don't  fire  unless  fired  upon; 
but  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war,  let  it  begin  here." 

The  British  Commander,  Major  Pitcairn,  drew 
his  pistol,  and,  pointing  at  the  Patriots,  cried  out: 

"Disperse,  you  villains!  Lay  down  your  arms, 
you  rebels,  and  disperse!" 

The  Patriots  did  not  move.  The  British  came 
nearer,  as  if  to  surround  Parker's  men.  A  shot, 
fired  from  the  British  line,  was  answered  imme- 
diately by  the  Patriots.  Then  Major  Pitcairn 
drew  his  pistol,  and  discharged  it,  calling  out, 
"Fire."  The  British  then  fired  upon  the  Minute 
Men,  killing  four  of  them,  after  which  the  others 
retreated.  This  was  the  opening  shot  of  the  Revo- 
lution, and  we  shall  see  how  England  paid  dearly 
for  it. 

The  British  moved  on  to  Concord,  reaching  there 
about  seven  o'clock.  They  were  too  late,  however, 
for  most  of  the  stores  had  been  removed.  They 
did  what  damage  they  could,  by  knocking  open, 
sixty  barrels  of  flour,  injuring  three  cannon  and 
setting  fire  to  the  court-house. 

About  midday,  the  British  began  their  retreat. 
The  Patriots  had  gathered  in  haste  from  the  neigh- 
boring  towns,    and   were   preparing   to   harass   the 


154  AMERICA  FIRST 


enemy  along  the  road.  Concealing  themselves  be- 
hind houses,  barns,  roadside  walls,  and  trees,  they 
poured  a  galling  fire  into  the  retreating  British. 
The  Red  Coats,  as  the  British  were  called,  began 
to  run  in  order  to  escape  the  deadly  fire  of  the 
farmers,  with  their  rifles  and  shotguns.  The  six 
miles  from  Concord  to  Boston  were  one  dreadful 
ambush.  Reaching  Lexington,  a  number  of  the 
British  fell  exhausted  on  the  ground,  their  tongues 
parched  from  fatigue  and  thirst. 

Here  they  were  joined  by  a  large  number  of 
fresh  British  troops,  and  the  whole  force  proceeded 
to  Boston,  pursued  by  the  Patriots  up  to  the  very 
entrance  of  the  city.  Altogether,  they  lost  about 
three  hundred  men,  while  the  Americans  lost  only 
one  hundred. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  American  Revo- 
lution. The  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere  was  a 
very  good  beginning  for  the  cause  of  American 
freedom. 


THE  GREEN  MOUNTAIN  BOYS 

Between  Lake  George  and  Lake  Champlain, 
there  once  stood  a  famous  old  fort,  know^n  as  Fort 
Ticonderoga.     At  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution, 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  155 


it  was  feebly  garrisoned  by  English  troops,  but 
was  well  supplied  with  arms  and  ammunition. 
The  Patriots  needed  these  arms  and  ammunition, 
so  as  to  carry  on  the  war  which  had  just  begun 
at  Lexington.  We  shall  see  how  the  fort  was 
captured. 

As  soon  as  the  mountaineers  of  Vermont  heard 
of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  they  dropped  their 
axes  and  plows,  and,  seizing  their  rifles,  banded  to- 
gether for  a  march  on  Ticonderoga.  Ethan  Allen, 
a  rugged  and  brave  mountaineer,  was  their  leader. 
In  order  to  meet  the  ex7)enses  of  the  expedition, 
funds,  amounting  to  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  were 
collected  from  the  people  of  Connecticut. 

As  the  expedition  advanced,  one  of  the  Connec- 
ticut agents,  named  Noah  Phelps,  went  on  ahead 
to  find  out  the  condition  of  the  fort.  Disguising 
himself  as  a  countryman,  he  entered  the  strong- 
hold on  the  pretense  that  he  wished  to  be  shaved. 
Hunting  for  the  barber,  he  kept  his  eyes  and  ears 
open,  asking  questions  like  an  innocent  farmer, 
until  he  found  out  all  about  the  garrison  and  its 
equipment. 

When  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Boys 
neared  their  goal,  they  were  joined  by  another 
force  under  the  command  of  Benedict  Arnold,  who 
was   then  a  brave  oflScer  in  the  American  army. 


156  AMERICA  FIRST 


though  he  afterwards  proved  himself  a  traitor. 
The  two  parties  approached  the  fort,  one  nioving 
at  daybreak,  a  farmer's  boy,  who  hved  near,  act- 
ing as  their  guide. 

The  stockade  around  the  fort  was  reached.  The 
gate  was  open,  since  the  Enghsh  Commander  sus- 
pected no  danger.  The  sentry  tried  to  fire  his 
gun,  but  it  failed  to  go  off;  whereupon  he  ran  in- 
side and  gave  the  alarm.  The  attacking  party 
was  close  upon  his  heels.  Before  any  of  the  gar- 
rison could  be  awakened  from  their  sleep,  Allen 
and  his  men  had  taken  possession,  and  resistance 
was  useless.  The  capture  was  made  by  surprise 
and  without  bloodshed. 

Allen  compelled  one  of  the  sentries  to  show  him 
the  way  to  the  quarters  of  the  Commander,  Cap- 
tain Delaplace.  Reaching  his  room,  Allen  called 
upon  him  in  loud  tones  to  surrender.  The  Com- 
mander sprang  from  bed,  surprised  and  alarmed  at 
the  unusual  demand. 

''By  w^hose  authority?"  he  asked,  in  his  half- 
awake  condition. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Great  Jehovah  and  the 
Continental  Congress,"  replied  Allen,  in  a  loud 
voice. 

Delaplace  made  no  reply,  but  hastily  dressed  to 
see  what  the  madman  from  the  mountains  meant. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  157 

He  soon  discovered.  Outside  he  heard  the  shouts 
of  the  Patriots,  and  saw  the  movement  of  men 
taking  possession  of  the  stores.  WTien  he  came 
from  his  quarters  he  reahzed  that  the  fort  had 
been  occupied  by  a  force,  superior  to  his,  and 
that  it  was  surrendered  without  a  shot  being  fired 
or  a  blow  exchanged. 

The  captured  stores  consisted  of  a  large  number 
of  cannon  and  ammunition,  besides  small  arms 
much  needed  by  the  Patriots  in  the  great  war 
which  was  to  last  for  some  years 


THE  FATHER  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Let  us  learn  something  of  the  kind  of  man 
George  Washington  was  —  the  man  w^hom  we  have 
long  known  as  the  ''Father  of  his  Country."  To 
look  at,  he  was  a  fine  type  of  man  and  soldier,  — 
the  type  that  would  attract  attention  anywhere. 
He  was  tall,  and  held  himself  as  straight  as  an 
arrow.  He  was  six  feet,  two  inches  high,  and 
weighed  two  hundred  and  twenty  pounds.  \^Tier- 
ever  he  went,  in  whatever  company,  he  was  distin- 
guished for  his  splendid  height  and  erect  figure. 
His  eyes  were  fight  blue,  and  so  deeply  sunken 
that  they  gave  him  a  serious  expression.     His  face 


158  AMERICA  FIRST 


was  grave  and  thoughtful,  though  his  disposition 
was  full  of  cheer  and  good-will. 

In  his  young  days,  he  was  very  athletic,  with  a 
strong  right  arm.  It  is  said  that  he  once  threw  a 
stone  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  of  the  Natural 
Bridge,  in  Virginia,  a  height  of  over  two  hundred 
feet;  and  that  he  threw  a  piece  of  slate,  rounded 
to  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar,  across  the  Rappahan- 
nock River,  at  Fredericksburg, —  a  feat  no  other  man 
had  ever  been  able  to  accomplish. 

In  fact,  during  the  Revolution,  though  some  of 
the  backwoodsmen  in  the  army  were  men  of  great 
size  and  strength,  yet  it  was  generally  believed 
that  Washington  was  as  strong  as  the  best  of 
them.  One  day,  at  Mt.  Vernon,  some  young  men, 
who  boasted  of  their  power,  were  throwing  an  iron 
bar  to  see  who  could  cover  the  greatest  distance. 
Washington,  watching  them,  said,  ''Let  me  try  my 
hand  at  this  game."  Without  taking  off  his  coat, 
he  seized  the  bar,  and,  to  the  amazement  of  the 
party,  threw  it  a  considerable  distance  furtlier  than 
any  of  the  others  had  done. 

He  was  a  fine  wrestler  when  he  was  a  young 
man.  At  one  time,  he  was  witnessing  a  wrestling 
match,  and  the  champion  challenged  him  to  a  trial 
of  strength.  Washington  turned,  and,  without  a 
word,    seized   the   strong   man,    and,    to   the   great 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  159 


amusement  of  the  crowd,  threw  him  flat  on  the 
ground.  The  defeated  champion  said  he  felt  as 
though  a  Hon  had  grabbed  him,  and,  when  he  hit 
the  ground,  he  expected  every  bone  in  his  body 
to  be  broken. 

Washington  was  also  very  fond  of  parties  and 
dancing.  He  often  rode,  on  winter  nights,  a  dis- 
tance of  ten  miles,  to  attend  a  dance,  and  would 
reach  home  just  in  time  for  breakfast.  He  kept 
this  up  until  he  was  sixty -four  years  old,  w^hen  he 
had  to  write  to  a  friend,  ''Alas!  my  dancing  days 
are  over."  He  liked  to  dress  well,  and  was  very 
fussy  about  the  quality  of  cloth  and  the  fit  of  his 
garments.  He  wore  rufiled  shirts,  silver  and  gold 
lace  on  his  hat,  scarlet  waistcoats,  blue  broadcloth 
coats,  with  silver  trimmings,  and  marble-colored 
hose.  In  fact,  the  "Father  of  his  Country"  was 
something  of  a  dandy,  and  kept  it  up  to  the  end 
of  his  life. 

Like  most  soldiers,  Washington  w^as  fond  of 
horses,  and  was  a  splendid  and  daring  rider.  As 
he  rode  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  he  was  a  con- 
spicuous figure.  Lafayette  once  said  of  him,  "I 
never  beheld  so  superb  a  horseman."  Jefferson 
WTote,  "Washington  was  the  best  horseman  of  his 
age,  and  the  most  graceful  figure  that  could  be 
seen  on  horseback." 


160  A]MERICA  FIRST 


Washington  was  very  methodical  in  his  habits, 
and  thrifty  in  business.  He  kept  a  diary,  putting 
down  daily  happenings  of  his  hfe,  and  keeping  an 
accurate  account  of  what  money  he  received  and 
how  it  was  spent.  He  became  wealthy,  and,  at 
the  time  of  his  death,  was  worth  a  half  million 
dollars.  He  w^as  then  the  richest  man  in  America. 
His  estate  at  Mt.  Yernon  covered  eight  thousand 
acres,  the  slaves  and  laborers  numbering  five  hun- 
dred. His  orders  were,  "Buy  nothing,  you  can 
make  yourself."  Hence,  he  was  the  greatest  farmer 
of  the  day.  He  made  all  his  own  flour  and  meal, 
and  even  the  flour  barrels.  The  cloth  for  the 
house  and  for  the  farm  hands  was  woven  on  the 
premises.  Like  all  rich  Virginia  planters,  he  kept 
open  house,  and  there  was  rarely  a  time  when  his 
table  was  without  one  or  more  guests.  He  said 
his  house  w^as  more  like  a  tavern  than  anything 
else. 

He  was  very  correct  in  his  habits.  He  ate  care- 
fully and  slowly,  and  the  simplest  of  food.  He 
was  grave  and  dignified,  and  seldom  laughed, 
though  he  was  not  of  a  gloomy  disposition.  In 
almost  every  relation  of  public  and  private  life, 
his  character  is  worthy  of  study  and  of  emulation. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  161 


NATHAN  HALE 

Washington's  army  had  been  defeated  in  the 
battle  of  Long  Island,  and,  only  by  a  narrow 
chance  did  the  troops  manage  to  escape  to  Man- 
hattan Island.  The  British  were  threatening  New 
York,  and  Washington  was  almost  in  despair.  The 
one  thing  he  needed  most  was  information  con- 
cerning the  plans  of  the  enemy. 

"If  I  could  have  someone  to  go  into  the  enemy's 
lines,  and  find  out  their  strength  and  purpose,  I 
might  save  my  army,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  offi- 
cers.    ''Get  me  the  man  if  you  can." 

The  officer  called  his  associates  together,  and 
put  the  problem  before  them,  but,  one  by  one, 
they  refused  the  dangerous  task.  They  knew  the 
perils  of  the  life  of  a  spy.  They  knew  he  had  to 
wear  the  enemy's  uniform,  or  no  uniform  at  all; 
had  to  pretend  friendship  with  the  foe,  to  keep  an 
eye  on  everything,  to  find  out  what  he  could,  to 
draw  plans  of  forts,  to  secure  important  papers 
and  keep  them  hidden,  until  he  could  shp  back 
within  his  ow^n  lines.  He  needed  quickness  of 
mind  and  wit,  a  heart  of  courage,  and  nerve  of 
iron,  for  he  would  be  surrounded  by  danger  every 


162  A^VIERICA  FIRST 


minute,  and  if  he  were  caught,  his  fate  would  be 
certain  death. 

At  last  one  officer  heard  what  Washington 
wanted,  and  at  once  said,  ''I  will  take  any  risk 
for  Washington  and  my  country.  I  am  ready  to 
go."  His  name  was  Captain  Nathan  Hale.  Hale 
had  been  a  school  teacher  before  the  war.  He  was 
young,  athletic,  brave,  and  much  admired  by  all 
who  knew  him.  He  was  a  famous  runner,  and, 
when  a  student  at  Yale  College,  held  the  record 
for  the  longest  standing  jump.  \Mien  he  came  to 
Washington  and  asked  for  instructions,  the  great 
Chief  said, 

"My  boy,  I  have  little  to  say.  Go  into  the 
enemy's  lines,  find  out  how  many  troops  they 
have,  where  they  are  placed,  and  what  they  mtend 
to  do.  That  is  all.  Bring  me  word  if  you  can. 
If  you  never  get  back,  remember  you  are  serving 
your  country.     God  bless  you!" 

Hale  saluted  and  departed.  He  took  off  his  uni- 
form, and  put  on  a  brown  suit  and  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  the  dress  of  a  Quaker  school  teacher. 
He  went  on  board  a  sloop  late  at  night,  and  was 
landed  near  the  British  outposts.  He  spent  the 
next  day  with  a  farmer  nearby,  and  then,  in  the 
afternoon,  walked  boldly  into  the  enemy's  lines. 

What  he  did  for  the  next  two  weeks  no  one  will 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  163 

* ■ — 

ever  know.  He  acted  his  part  very  well,  however, 
for  he  was  not  suspected  of  being  a  spy.  He  told 
the  British  he  was  a  Quaker,  who  did  not  believe 
in  war,  and  that  he  wanted  to  teach  school.  But 
he  was  learning  all  he  could.  His  eyes  were  alert 
and  watchful,  without  seeming  to  be  so.  He 
listened  to  conversations  and,  occasionally,  when 
close,  he  would  make  drawings  of  the  forts  and 
camp.  All  his  notes  w^ere  written  in  Latin,  so  that 
they  could  not  be  easily  read. 

At  last  Hale  learned  all  he  thought  was  neces- 
sary. Gathering  his  material  together,  he  ripped 
open  the  soles  of  his  shoes  and  carefully  hid  the 
precious  notes  therein.  Then  he  was  ready  to 
start  for  home.  Washington  was  looking  for  him, 
and,  by  previous  arrangement,  w^as  to  send  a  boat 
for  him  to  take  him  into  the  American  lines. 
There  was  a  little  tavern  at  Huntingdon,  near  the 
place  where  the  boat  w^as  to  come.  Hale  walked 
into  the  tavern  one  day,  and  sat  down,  waiting 
imtil  the  time  arrived  for  him  to  meet  his  friends. 

As  he  sat  there,  a  man  came  in  and  looked  him 
over  closely.  Hale  paid  no  attention,  and  the  man 
w^ent  out.  But  Hale  had  been  recognized  by  some- 
one who  knew^  him,  and  the  man  was  on  his  way 
to  the  British  to  report  that  the  school  teacher 
was   also   an   American   officer,   known   as   Captain 


164  AjNIERICA  first 


Nathan  Hale.  After  an  hour  or  two.  Hale  left 
the  tavern,  and  walked  down  toward  the  shore  to 
meet  his  boat.  But  mstead  of  his  own  boat  at 
the  landing,  there  was  a  British  boat.  The  officer 
called  out,  ''Surrender,  you  spy,  or  I  fire." 

Hale  knew  he  was  caught,  and  held  up  his 
hands  in  token  of  surrender.  He  was  carried  to 
the  British  Commander,  and  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  his  name  or  his  purpose.  They  tore  open 
his  shoes  and  found  the  papers.  Then  they  con- 
demned him  to  be  hanged  at  sunrise  the  next  day. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  morning,  and  Hale 
was  led  out  before  the  gallows,  which  was  nothing 
but  the  limb  of  a  tree.  "Have  you  anything  to 
say.'^"  asked  the  British  officer.  The  brave  young 
patriot  looked  up  into  the  sky,  and  then  at  the 
rope,  which  already  was  around  his  neck,  and 
slowly  replied,  "I  only  regret  that  I  have  but 
one  life  to  lose  for  my  country." 

A  few  moments  later  Nathan  Hale  was  dead. 
His  body  was  probably  buried  there,  under  the 
tree,  but  nobody  to  this  day  knows. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  IGo 


THE  BRA\^RY  OF  ELIZABETH  ZANE 

This  is  a  story  of  the  attack  on  Fort  Henry,  a 
small  frontier  settlement  near  where  \Mieeling, 
West  Virginia,  now  stands.  It  was  in  the  summer 
of  1777,  when  Simon  Girty,  one  of  the  worst  char- 
acters that  ever  appeared  on  the  stage  of  Ameri- 
can history,  led  a  band  of  four  hundred  Indians 
in  assault  upon  the  fort.  Colonel  Sheppard  w^as 
in  charge  of  the  fortification,  with  only  forty  men. 
As  soon  as  the  movements  of  Girty  and  his  band 
became  known,  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  town 
of  Wheehng,  then  composed  of  about  twenty-five 
log  huts,  hastened  to  the  fort  for  protection. 

A  reconnoitering  party  was  sent  out  by  Colonel 
Sheppard  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the 
enemy.  They  fell  into  an  ambush,  and  more  than 
half  of  them  were  victims  of  the  rifle  and  toma- 
hawk. Another  party  w^ent  to  their  rehef,  but 
most  of  them  also  were  killed  by  the  savages. 
This  reduced  the  fort  to  a  small  garrison.  Inside 
were  the  women  and  children,  and  outside  raged  a 
band  of  four  hundred  blood-thirsty  Indians,  led  by 
a  desperate  and  skillful  commander.  The  situation 
of  Fort  Henry  was  indeed  perilous,  and  all  those 
within  seemed  doomed. 


166  AMERICA   FIRST 


Colonel  Sheppard  was  not  a  man  to  surrender 
easily  He  would  rather  die  by  rifle  shot,  than  be 
burned  at  the  stake.  Calling  his  men  around  him, 
he  said: 

"We  must  defend  this  fort  to  the  last  man.  If 
we  surrender,  it  means  sure  death  to  us  all  by 
slow  torture,  and  the  women  and  children  will 
suffer  most.  Let  each  man  do  his  full  duty,  and 
the  women  must  help." 

Gladly  they  began  their  desperate  defense.  The 
women  cast  the  bullets,  measured  out  the  powder 
from  the  scant  supply,  and  loaded  the  rifles. 
Among  them  was  Elizabeth  Zane,  the  sister  of  two 
of  the  defenders  of  the  fort.  She  had  recently  re- 
turned from  school  in  Philadelphia,  and  knew  very 
little  of  border  warfare,  but  she  had  a  brave  spirit, 
as  we  shall  see. 

Early  one  morning,  Girty  and  his  followers  came 
before  the  fort  with  a  white  flag,  and  demanded  its 
immediate  surrender. 

Colonel  Sheppard  hurled  back  the  defiant  reply, 
"This  fort  shall  never  be  surrendered  so  long  as 
there  is  an  American  left  inside  to  defend  it." 

Girty  was  infuriated,  and,  blind  with  rage,  called 
out,  "Then  we  shall  force  you  to  surrender,  and 
not  a  man  or  woman  shall  be  left  alive  in  this 
town."  Turning  to  his  Indian  followers,  he  ordered 
them  to  attack  the  fort. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  167 


Unfortunately,  some  of  the  log  huts  of  the  in- 
habitants were  sufficiently  near  to  afford  protection 
to  the  savages,  so  that  they  could  begin  their  as- 
sault under  cover.  They  ran  into  these  huts,  and 
opened  fire,  but  with  little  effect,  for  the  defenders 
kept  well  out  of  sight.  The  brave  Patriots  within 
were  all  sharp-shooters,  and  had  no  powder  to 
waste;  every  shot  they  fired  meant  the  death- 
knell  of  some  Indian  who  had  exposed  himself. 

After  six  hours,  the  Indians  withdrew  from  the 
houses  to  a  place  nearby,  and,  for  a  while,  there 
was  quiet.  It  was  fortunate,  for,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, someone  brought  word  that  the  powder  of 
the  fort  was  nearly  exhausted;  it  would  not  last 
an  hour  longer,  and  then  the  Patriots  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  their  foe. 

Ebenezer  Zane  looked  at  his  own  house,  about 
sixty  yards  away,  and  said,  "There  is  a  keg  of 
powder  yonder.  If  we  could  get  it,  we  would  be 
safe;    but  someone  will  have  to  go  for  it." 

*' Powder,"  cried  Colonel  Sheppard,  'Sve  will 
have  to  get  it,  no  matter  what  the  risk.  One  of 
us  must  go  at  once." 

Who  should  undertake  the  dangerous  mission? 
The  Indians  were  in  easy  gunshot,  and  it  meant 
death  to  any  one  showing  himself  outside  the  fort. 
Colonel  Sheppard  would  not  order  any  person  to 


168  AMERICA   FIRST 


go,  but  instead,  called  for  volunteers.  Every  man 
instantly  offered  to  go;  not  one  held  back.  But 
just  as  they  were  deciding,  a  woman  stepped  for- 
ward, and  said: 

"No  man  can  be  spared  now.  We  have  too 
few  to  defend  this  place.  I  am  the  one  to  go. 
Unbar  the  gate  and  let  me  out." 

Colonel  Sheppard  looked  at  her  with  great  ad- 
miration, and,  after  a  few  moments,  said,  "God 
bless  you,  my  girl,  and  may  you  return  in  safety. 
Perhaps  your  going  will  throw  the  Indians  off 
their  guard.  Unbar  the  gates,  men,  and  let  her 
pass." 

The  gate  was  opened,  and  she  walked  steadily 
and  quickly  across  the  open  area  toward  the  house 
where  the  powder  was.  The  Indians  looked  on  in 
wonder,  thinking  she  was  coming  to  them  as  a 
captive.  But  the  girl  sprang  into  the  house,  seized 
the  keg,  and  reappeared  at  the  door,  on  her  way 
back  to  the  fort.  There  was  now  no  time  for 
leisure.  She  ran  as  fast  as  she  could  with  the 
precious  keg  in  her  arms. 

With  a  yell  of  defiance,  the  Indians  sprang  in 
pursuit,  and  opened  fire  upon  the  fleeing  girl. 
She  ran  like  a  deer,  swift  and  straight  toward  the 
open  gate.  Not  a  shot  touched  her,  though  bullets 
struck  the  ground  about  her  feet  and  went  flying 


Mil*'    VVlNTfe 


'Unbar  the  gate  and  let  me  pass!' 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  1C9 

around  her  head.  In  a  few  moments,  she  had 
reached  the  fort,  and  fell  into  the  arms  of  her 
friends,  who  raised  a  great  shout  as  the  gate  was 
barred  and  the  powder  was  safely  in  their  hands. 

"We  have  a  heroine  in  this  fort,  and  will  now 
conquer  or  die,"  cried  the  men,  as  they  hastily 
prepared  to  meet  the  next  attack.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  they  did  defend  the  fort,  until  help  came 
and  the  savages  were  driven  away.  And,  to  this 
day,  the  people  love  to  tell  the  story  of  how  Eliza- 
beth Zane  saved  the  fort,  and  the  lives  of  those 
who  afterwards  helped  build  a  great  city. 


CAPTURING  THE  HESSIANS 

It  was  a  cold  December  night,  and  the  little 
army  of  General  Washington  stood  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Delaware  River,  getting  ready  to  cross  its 
icy  waters.  The  men  were  cold  and  hungry,  tired 
and  discouraged.  It  seemed  as  if  the  war  would 
be  lost  for  lack  of  men  and  supplies.  The  whole 
country  w^as  dow^nhearted. 

Not  so  General  Washington.  He  knew  that  one 
victory  would  raise  the  hope  of  the  troops  and  the 
country,  and  he  proposed  to  start  w^inning  it  that 
night.     Over    at   Trenton    were    a    thousand    hired 


170  AiVIERICA  FIRST 


Hessian  soldiers,  celebrating  Christmas.  Washing- 
ton determined  to  be  on  hand  at  the  celebration. 

''Courage,  my  men,"  he  cried.  ''Tomorrow  will 
be  a  great  day,  if  you  can  stand  this  night." 

The  men  got  into  the  boats,  and  took  the  oars. 
Blocks  of  ice  floated  by  over  the  frozen  river. 
The  wind  blew^  keen  and  cold.  The  men  shivered 
and  shook,  as  they  steered  their  boat  amid  the 
perils  that  surrounded  them. 

At  last  they  w^ere  over.  ^Miat  stamping  of  feet 
and  blowing  of  hands  to  keep  warm!  Then  came 
the  long  march  of  nine  miles  to  Trenton,  through 
a  blinding  snow-storm.  Hour  after  hour  passed, 
while  the  men  stumbled  and  fell  and  got  up  and 
trudged  on  and  on.  No  soldiers,  except  those 
fighting  for  home  and  country  and  freedom,  could 
have  endured  through  that  march.  But  at  last 
the  almost  exliausted  army  came  to  Trenton. 

In  the  meantime,  the  hired  soldiers  of  the  King 
of  England  had  been  having  a  great  time,  drinking 
and  feasting  and  boasting  of  what  they  would  do 
to  Washington's  army  when  next  they  met.  The 
Hessian  Commander  at  Trenton  was  named  Rail. 
He  had  made  his  headquarters  in  the  house  of  a 
merchant,  one  Abraham  Hunt.  Rail  was  very  fond 
of  drinking  and  playing  cards.  On  Christmas 
night,  he  and  Hunt  were  in  a  warm  room,  before 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  171 

a  big  fire,  with  plenty  to  eat  and  drink  at  hand; 
a  game  of  cards  was  in  progress.  Just  at  this 
moment  Washington's  army  was  crossing  the  Dela- 
ware, amid  the  snow^  and  ice. 

A  servant  came  in  and  handed  Rail  a  note.  He 
thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  saying,  "I  will  read  it 
later  on."  But  it  so  happened  that  he  forgot  the 
note,  and  went  on  playing  cards  and  drinking. 
Late  in  the  night,  he  went  to  bed  and  slept,  and 
all  the  while  Washington  w^as  drawing  closer  and 
closer  through  the  blinding  snow! 

The  next  day,  Washington  was  before  Trenton. 
The  sun  was  shining,  and  his  troops  were  eager 
and  ready  for  battle.  Bursting  upon  the  unsus- 
pecting Hessians,  the  great  battle  of  Trenton  be- 
gan. It  did  not  last  long.  All  the  Hessians,  one 
thousand  in  number,  surrendered,  after  a  hundred 
had  been  killed.  Washington  lost  four  men,  two 
frozen  to  death  and  two  killed. 

Rail  was  mortally  wounded,  and  borne  to  a 
tavern  nearb3\  It  was  then  that  he  thought  of 
the  note  in  his  pocket,  and  asked  for  it.  AMien  it 
was  opened  it  was  found  to  contain  a  warning  of 
the  plans  of  Washington,  which  had  been  sent  by 
a  Tory,  and  delivered  to  a  servant  in  Hunt's 
house.  What  a  difference  in  the  history  of  our 
country,  if  the  note  had  been  read  in  time  for  the 


172  AMERICA  FIRST 


Hessians  to  have  met  Washington  on  his  way  to 
Trenton ! 

It  was  a  great  American  victory,  and  brought  a 
happy  Christmas  season  to  the  Colonies  when  it 
became  known. 


HOW  LAFAYETTE  CAME  TO  AMERICA 

Lafayette  belonged  to  the  highest  rank  of  the 
French  nobility.  ^Mien  he  was  only  thirteen  years 
old,  he  was  left  with  large  landed  estates,  and  the 
title  of  Marquis.  He  went  to  college  in  Paris, 
and,  while  there,  met  the  King  of  France,  Louis 
XV,  who  took  him  as  a  page  into  the  royal  house- 
hold. AMien  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  he  was  given 
a  military  commission  through  the  influence  of  the 
Queen. 

Soon  after  this,  he  was  married,  and  w^as  sta- 
tioned as  Captain  of  Dragoons,  at  a  fort  on  the 
German  border.  At  dinner,  one  day,  he  heard 
someone  talking  about  the  Americans  and  the 
Declaration  of  Independence.  He  listened  very 
attentively,  and  then  said: 

"'If  what  you  say  of  those  Colonies  is  true,  they 
deserve  their  liberty,  and  I,  for  one,  would  like  to 
help  them." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  173 


Shortly  after  this,  he  heard  of  the  American  vic- 
tories at  Trenton  and  Princeton,  and,  hastening  to 
the  American  agents  in  Paris,  he  said  to  them,  "I 
desire  to  aid  America  in  her  fight  for  freedom.  I 
am  willing  to  go  in  person,  if  you  can  find  a  way 

to  send  me." 

But  Lafayette  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age, 
and  belonged  to  the  French  nobility.  France  and 
England  were  at  peace.  If  he  should  try  to  come 
to  America,  there  might  be  trouble  with  the  Eng- 
lish government,  and,  besides  that,  his  own  King 
probably  would  not  let  him  undertake  so  foohsh 
an  enterprise.     So  the  agent  said: 

"Marquis,  you  are  very  brave  and  you  are  very 
wealthy.  We  cannot  help  you  even  if  we  would, 
for  America  has  no  ships  on  this  side  of  the  ocean. 
If  you  desire  to  go  to  America,  it  must  of  neces- 
sity be  at  your  own  expense.  We  shall  be  glad 
to  know  that  you  have  decided  to  go." 

Lafayette,  thereupon,  went  about  getting  ready. 
His  preparations  were  made  secretly,  for  fear  the 
King  of  France  would  forbid  his  going  on  account 
of  the  existing  friendship  with  England.  At  his 
own  expense,  he  purchased  a  ship  and  fitted  it  out 
for  the  voyage.  Wliile  the  vessel  was  being  pre- 
pared, Lafayette  paid  a  visit  to  London  so  as  to 
remove  suspicion  from  his  design. 


174  AiVlERICA   FIRST 


Wliile  he  was  in  London,  the  British  Ambassa- 
dor at  Paris  in  some  way  learned  of  his  purpose 
to  go  to  America,  and  procured  orders  for  his  ar- 
rest. Accordingly,  when  Lafayette  reached  his 
ship,  and  was  about  to  sail,  he  was  arrested  by 
order  of  the  King.  Letters  were  sent  to  him  by 
all  his  noble  relatives,  telling  him  how  foolish  he 
was,  and  urging  him  to  abandon  his  purpose.  His 
wife  wrote  to  him,  however,  not  to  give  up  his 
enterprise,  but  to  go  to  America  if  he  could  find 
a  way  to  do  so. 

Lafayette  was  not  to  be  stopped  by  orders  from 
the  King  or  any  one  else.  So,  while  the  arresting 
party  was  on  the  way  to  Paris,  the  bold  young 
nobleman  blackened  his  face,  put  on  false  hair  and 
old  clothes,  and  passed  the  guards,  making  them 
think  he  was  a  negro  laborer. 

After  a  few  hours,  the  guards  discovered  the 
trick  played  upon  them;  a  great  stir  and  com- 
motion followed.  Swift  horses  were  saddled,  and 
men  went  galloping  in  the  direction  the  escaping 
Marquis  had  taken.  But  Lafayette  had  three 
hours  start,  and  was  driving  the  best  horses  that 
could  be  found.  He  was  headed  for  the  border 
of  Spain,  after  passing  which  he  would  be  safe 
from  arrest. 

In  spite  of  the  furious  pursuit,  Lafayette  at  last 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  175 

was  safe;  in  a  short  while  he  was  on  board  his 
own  vessel  and  ready  to  set  sail.  With  him  were 
eleven  officers  bent  on  the  same  mission.  His  de- 
parture created  a  great  sensation  in  France  and 
England,  but  Lafayette  cared  very  little  for  that. 

The  Captain  of  his  vessel  did  not  know  where 
he  was  bound,  until  Lafayette  ordered  him  to 
steer  for  the  shores  of  America.  The  Captain  was 
alarmed  and  said,  ''I  dare  not  do  so.  The  Eng- 
lish will  capture  us."  To  which  Lafayette  rephed, 
"If  you  do  not  do  as  I  tell  you,  I  shall  put  you 
in  irons.  This  is  my  vessel,  and  I  will  order  it 
wherever  I  desire."  Thereupon  the  Captain  steered 
the  ship  for  America. 

The  voyage  was  long  and  stormy,  but  at  last 
Lafayette  and  his  party  arrived  one  night  near 
Georgetown,  South  Carolina.  At  first  they  were 
taken  for  the  enemy,  but,  as  soon  as  it  was  known 
who  they  were,  the  people  of  Georgetown  and 
Charleston  entertained  them  with  great  hospitahty. 
Their  arrival  in  iVmerica  created  a  greater  sensation 
than  their  departure  from  Europe,  for  the  fortunes 
of  the  American  army  were  at  a  low  ebb  just  at 
this  time,  and  the  people  were  much  discouraged. 

Lafayette  and  his  party  proceeded  by  land  to 
Philadelphia,  where  Congress  was  then  in  session. 
Upon  his  arrival,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  President 


176  AMERICA   FIRST 


of  that  body,  asking  leave  to  enter  the  army  as  a 
volunteer,  and  to  serve  without  pay.  But  Con- 
gress had  no  idea  of  letting  so  brave  a  man  take 
such  a  low  position;  he  was  at  once  given  the 
rank  of  Major-General. 

He  then  lacked  one  month  of  being  twenty 
years  old.  Those  w^ho  saw  him,  at  the  time,  de- 
scribed him  as  tall  and  slender,  very  graceful  in 
his  movements  and  gracious  in  his  manners.  He 
talked  rapidly,  with  many  gestures,  and,  when  he 
spoke  of  liberty  for  the  Colonies  in  America,  his 
eyes  shone  very  brightly  and  his  face  expressed  his 
great  emotion. 

Soon  afterwards,  Lafayette  met  Washington  at  a 
dinner  party  in  Philadelphia.  The  two  men  looked 
at  each  other  with  interest.  Washington  was  tall, 
dignified,  and  forty -five  years  of  age.  Lafayette 
was  hardly  more  than  a  college  boy,  slender  and 
enthusiastic.  After  the  dinner  was  over,  Wash- 
ington took  him  aside  and  said: 

"Sir,  I  thank  you  for  the  sacrifice  you  are  mak- 
ing for  the  cause  of  America.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
have  you  a  member  of  my  military  family." 

Thus  began  the  intimacy  between  these  two 
great  men,  which  was  never  for  a  moment  inter- 
rupted. Washington  loved  Lafayette  as  a  son,  and 
learned  to  trust  him  as  a  General  of  ability  and 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  177 


courage.  He  served  in  many  battles  with  distin- 
guished gallantry. 

AMien  Lafayette  went  back  to  France  to  get 
more  aid  for  America,  he  was  forgiven  for  running 
away,  and  was  received  everywhere  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. France  became  the  ally  of  America  in 
the  War  for  Independence,  and  Lafayette  raised 
large  sums  of  money  for  the  Colonists.  The  head 
of  the  French  Ministry  laughingly  said: 

"It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  Lafayette  did  not 
take  it  into  his  head  to  strip  his  Majesty's  palace 
of  all  its  furniture  to  send  to  his  dear  Americans 
for  I  verily  believe  the  King  now  would  refuse  him 
nothing." 


THE  PATRIOTISM  OF  LYDIA  DARRAH 

Wlien  the  British  occupied  Philadelphia,  the  Ad- 
jutant-General of  the  British  Army  had  his  quar- 
ters in  the  home  of  a  Quaker,  named  Darrah,  and 
his  wife,  Lydia.  The  two  were  stanch  Patriots, 
who  little  liked  the  private  conferences  of  the 
British  oflScers,  frequently  held  in  their  house  at 

night. 

One  cold  and  snowy  day  in  December,  1777,  the 
Adjutant-General  told  Mrs.  Darrah  to  make  ready 


178  a:merica  first 


the  upper  back  room  of  the  house  for  a  meeting 
of  his  friends,  which  he  Intended  for  that  very 
night. 

"Be  sure  your  family  are  all  in  bed  early,  for 
my  friends  may  stay  imtll  a  late  hour.  "^Mien  they 
are  ready  to  depart,  I  will  call  you  that  you  may 
let  them  out,  and  extinguish  the  fire  and  the 
candles." 

She  set  about  doing  as  she  was  bid.  At  the 
same  time,  she  was  so  Impressed  with  the  mystery 
of  it  all,  and  so  suspicious  of  the  purpose  of  the 
ofiicer,  that  she  resolved  to  find  out  what  was 
going  on. 

TMien  night  came,  she  saw  that  her  family 
were  In  bed,  and,  after  the  officers  arrived,  she 
bade  them  good-night,  saying  she  would  also  retire 
to  her  room.     So  she  did,  but  not  to  sleep. 

After  a  while  she  quietly  stole,  in  her  stocking 
feet,  along  the  passage  until  she  came  to  the  room 
where  the  officers  were  in  consultation.  She  placed 
her  ear  to  the  keyhole,  and  listened  Intently  to 
what  was  being  said  Inside. 

One  of  the  officers  was  reading  a  paper,  which 
was  an  order  from  Sir  William  Howe,  arranging 
for  a  secret  attack  on  the  forces  of  General  Wash- 
ington. The  British  troops  were  to  leave  Phila- 
delphia on  the  night  of  December  4,  and  to  sur- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  179 

prise  the  Patriots  before  daybreak.  The  plan  was 
carefully  made,  and  these  officers  were  receiving 
their  instructions. 

Mrs.  Darrah  had  heard  enough.  She  went 
quietly  back  to  her  room,  and  lay  down  on  the 
bed.  In  a  few  minutes,  steps  w^ere  heard  along  the 
passage,  and  there  was  a  rap  at  her  door. 

"Come,  wake  up,  Mrs.  Darrah,  and  let  us  out," 
demanded  the  Adjutant-General. 

Mrs.  Darrah  pretended  to  be  asleep,  and  the 
oflBcer  rapped  more  loudly  and  called  again.  Yaw^n- 
ing,  and  in  a  sleepy  voice,  the  patriotic  w^oman 
answered.  Then  she  arose  and  let  the  men  out  of 
the  house.  She  slept  no  more  that  night,  for  she 
knew  that  Washington  must  be  warned;  her 
thoughts  were  busy  with  some  plan  to  convey 
him  the  information  she  had. 

By  dawn  she  was  out  of  bed  and  ready  for 
action.  She  knew  that  flour  was  wanted  for  her 
family,  and  so  she  told  her  husband  that  she  was 
going  to  Frankford  to  get  the  needed  supply. 
This  was  not  an  unusual  thing,  since  the  people  in 
those  days  depended  on  the  Frankford  IMills  for 
their  flour,  and  delivery  wagons  were  not  heard  of. 

The  morning  was  cold,  and  snow  covered  the 
ground.  Frankford  was  five  miles  away,  and  Mrs. 
Darrah    had   to    walk   the   entire   way,    and   bring 


180  AjNIERICA   first 


back  the  flour  on  her  shoulder.  Bag  m  hand,  the 
brave  woman  started  on  her  journey  afoot.  She 
stopped  at  Howe's  headquarters  to  get  a  passport 
to  leave  the  city.  It  was  still  early  in  the  day 
when  she  reached  the  Mills,  and  left  her  bag  to 
be  filled  with  flour.  From  the  Mills  she  pushed 
on  toward  the  headquarters  of  General  Washington. 

After  walking  a  few  miles,  she  met  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Craig,  one  of  Washington's  officers,  who 
had  been  sent  out  in  search  of  information.  It 
did  not  take  her  long  to  tell  her  story  to  him. 
He  returned  rapidly  to  his  own  lines,  while  she 
walked  leisurely  back  to  the  Mills,  as  though  there 
was  nothing  on  her  mind.  She  shouldered  her  bag 
of  flour,  and  trudged  home  through  five  miles  of 
snow.  But  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  realizing 
that  Washington  now  knew  the  plans  of  the  enemy. 

On  the  night  of  December  4,  the  British  troops 
moved  quietly  out  of  Philadelphia,  and  advanced 
to  attack  the  supposedly  unsuspecting  Americans. 
Just  before  daybreak,  they  arrived  in  front  of  the 
American  lines,  and,  to  their  surprise,  found  every- 
thing ready  to  receive  them.  The  Patriots  were 
armed  and  prepared  for  their  foe.  In  much  dis- 
may, the  British  turned  quietly  around  and 
marched  back  to  Philadelphia,  having  gone  miles 
through  the  cold  and  darkness  for  nothing. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  181 

The  Adjutant-General  could  not  imagine  how 
Washington  had  found  out  the  plans  for  the  at- 
tack.    The  next  day  he  said  to  Mrs.  Darrah: 

''It  is  strange  how  Washington  discovered  our 
purpose.  You  and  your  family  w^ere  all  asleep 
when  I  gave  the  orders  to  the  officers,  and  yet 
some  one  found  out.  We  marched  miles  and  miles 
to  find  the  Americans  under  ar/ns,  with  cannon, 
ready,  and  then  we  had  to  march  back  like  a 
parcel  of  children.  I  wonder  who  told  him  we 
were    coming?" 

Mrs.  Darrah  could  have  enlightened  him  on  this 
point,  but  she  kept  her  counsel.  It  was  some 
months  after  the  British  had  left  Philadelphia  be- 
fore she  mentioned  to  any  one  the  way  in  which 
she  had  outwitted  General  Howe  and  saved  the 
Americans  from  surprise. 


CAPTAIN  MOLLY  PITCHER 

The  British  had  left  Philadelphia,  and  were  in 
full  retreat  across  Jersey  on  their  way  to  New 
York.  Washington  was  right  behind  them,  the 
front  ranks  of  the  American  Army  fighting  the  rear 
ranks  of  the  British.  It  was  a  long,  running  fight. 
At   last   they    came    to    Monmouth,    and    there    a 


18^2  AiVIERICA  FIRST 


battle  was  begun.  General  Charles  Lee,  in  charge 
of  the  American  forces,  acted  so  badly  that  the 
issue  of  the  fight  was  long  in  doubt. 

\Mien  Washington  saw  the  disorder  of  the 
troops,  he  was  angry,  and  rebuked  General  Lee  so 
harshly  that  the  officer  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet. 
He  was  afterwards  tried  by  court-martial  and 
dismissed. 

Then  Washington  took  charge  himself.  Orders 
flew  thick  and  fast.  Aids  scurried  in  every  direc- 
tion, putting  cannon  in  position,  and  getting  ready 
for  the  renewed  attack  which  was  sure  to  come. 
Soon  the  guns  roared,  the  heat  of  battle  became 
terrible,  and  smoke  covered  the  entire  field;  the 
dust  and  dirt  were  bhnding.  The  men  were  suffer- 
ing for  lack  of  water.  It  w^as  then  that  Molly 
Pitcher,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  gunners,  called  out, 
''Go  on  with  the  firing.  I  will  fetch  water  from 
the  spring." 

The  men  waved  their  hands  to  her;  she  ran 
down  the  hill,  drew  water  in  a  canteen,  and  carried 
it  back  and  forth  to  the  soldiers.  She  passed  from 
cannon  to  cannon,  while  the  men  drank  and  kept 
on  with  their  deadly  w^ork. 

How  many  times  she  did  this  no  one  knew,  but, 
as  she  was  coming  once  with  her  supply  of  water, 
a  shot  from  the  enemy  struck  her  husband  in  the 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  183 

breast,  and  he  fell  'beside  his  smoking  cannon. 
INlolly  ran  to  him,  and  knelt  down  by  him;  one 
look  was  enough  to  convince  her  that  he  was  dead. 

As  she  sat  there  in  speechless  grief,  with  the 
dead  man's  head  in  her  lap,  an  officer  rode  up,  and 
said  to  some  soldiers,  "Take  this  cannon  to  the 
rear;    there  is  now^  no  one  to  serve  it." 

^ATien  Molly  heard  this,  she  sprang  to  her  feet, 
and  cried  out,  "Stop!  That  cannon  shall  not  leave 
this  field  for  lack  of  some  one  to  serve  it.  Since 
they  have  killed  my  poor  husband,  I  will  take  his 
place,  and  avenge  his  death." 

With  that,  she  seized  the  rammer  from  the 
hands  of  her  dead  husband,  sprang  to  the  muzzle 
of  the  piece,  rammed  home  the  powder,  and 
stepped  back,  saying,  "Ready!"  Then  the  cannon 
blazed  again,  carrying  death  and  dismay  to  the 
ranks  of  the  enemy. 

Molly  Pitcher  stood  at  her  post  as  long  as  the 
battle  lasted.  Black  with  smoke,  covered  with 
dirt  and  dust,  blinded  by  the  heat,  she  did  the 
work  of  a  man.  She  never  flinched  for  a  moment, 
nor  did  she  stop  until  the  order  came  to  cease 
firing. 

Then  she  sat  down  on  the  ground  by  the  side 
of  her  poor  dead  husband,  took  his  head  again  in 
her  lap,  and  gave  way  to  her  tears  and  grief. 


184  AMERICA  FIRST 


Washington  had  seen  her  with  her  cannon  dur- 
ing the  battle.  He  admired  her  courage  and  pa- 
triotism, and  sent  for  her  to  come  to  headquarters. 
He  told  her  what  a  splendid  deed  of  heroism  she 
had  done,  and  conferred  on  her  an  officer's  com- 
mission. After  that,  she  wore  an  epaulet,  and 
everybody  called  her  "Captain  Molly." 


IVIARION,  THE  SWAMP-FOX 

The  army  of  the  American  General,  Gates,  had 
crossjed  the  Pee  Dee  River,  in  South  Carolina,  and 
was  pushing  forward  to  encounter  the  British  who 
were  overrunning  that  portion  of  the  country.  On 
the  march,  there  suddenly  appeared  a  body  of 
twenty  men  who  asked  that  they  might  join  the 
army.  It  was  a  sad  lot  of  ill-clad  and  badly- 
equipped  men  and  boys,  some  white  and  some 
black,  all  mounted  on  the  worst  looking  horses  you 
can  imagine.  The  soldiers  of  the  regular  army 
broke  into  laughter  when  they  saw  this  motley 
crowd  of  volunteers.  And  yet  this  very  band  was 
destined  to  become  famous,  for  its  leader  was 
Francis  Marion,  the  Swamp-Fox  of  South  Carolina, 

Marion  himseK  was  small  in  size  and  thin-faced 
—  a  modest  man,  of  no  better  equipment  than  his 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  185 


men,  and  riding  a  horse  of  which  no  one  could  be 
proud.  But  his  eye  flashed  with  a  brave  spirit, 
and  he  had  the  manner  of  a  man  of  high  adventure. 

General  Gates  gave  no  welcome  to  this  ragged 
soldiery,  and,  when  Marion  modestly  offered  some 
advice  about  the  best  methods  of  dealing  with  the 
British  in  the  South,  the  conceited  General  told 
him  he  needed  no  assistance  in  that  line,  which 
was  far  from  the  truth. 

Governor  Rutledge  knew  Marion,  and  realized 
what  his  service  would  mean;  so  a  commission  as 
Brigadier-General  was  given  him,  much  to  the 
dehght  of  his  men,  who  were  glad  to  be  under  so 
brave  a  leader.  With  this  commission,  and  with 
his  force  increased  to  a  hundred  or  more  men,  he 
rode   away   to   carry   on  warfare   according   to   his 

own  ideas. 

The  swamps  were  his  headquarters.  In  their 
impenetrable  thickets,  he  found  hiding-places  for 
his  men,  from  which  they  could  emerge  at  any 
time  to  strike  stinging  blows  at  the  enemy;  and 
into  which  they  could  retreat,  safe  from  attack. 
No  force  dared  follow  them  into  the  dangerous 
morasses.  His  little  company  was  constantly  chang- 
ing, at  one  time  numbering  several  hundred  and 
then  shrinking  to  a  mere  handful. 

The  swamps  could  not  feed  a  large  army;     still 


186  AMERICA   FIRST 


there  were  game  in  abundance,  and  fish  to  be  had 
in  the  streams.  The  nearby  farms  afforded  grain 
for  the  horses,  and  occasional  food  for  the  men. 
The  camp  was  in  the  middle  of  some  swamp,  on 
dry  land,  surrounded  by  thickets  and  cane-brakes; 
the  paths  leading  in  and  out  were  known  only  to 
the  men  themselves.  It  was  a  safe  retreat,  from 
which  the  little  band  could  saunter  forth  like  a 
drove  of  hornets,  whose  blows  struck  deadly  terror 
to  the  foe. 

A  young  British  officer  was  sent  from  George- 
to\\Ti  to  treat  with  ]\Iarion  for  the  exchange  of 
prisoners.  Marion  was  glad  enough  to  be  rid  of 
prisoners,  because  he  had  to  guard  and  feed  them. 
The  British  officer,  by  Marion's  command,  was 
blindfolded,  and  led  through  the  swamp  to  the 
camp  of  the  brave  patriotic  leader.  AMien  he 
arrived,  and  the  bandage  was  removed,  he  was 
amazed  to  see  the  hiding  place  of  Marion  and  his 
men,  with  great  trees  around,  and  deep  swamps  on 
every  side.  In  their  rough  uniforms,  the  men, 
lying  about,  looked  more  like  a  band  of  outlaws, 
than  a  camp  of  soldiers. 

He  was  still  more  surprised  when  he  saw  Marion 
himself.  Instead  of  a  burly  giant,  there  stood  a 
small,  quiet  man,  of  polite  manners,  roughly  clad 
and    poorly    equipped.     Little    in    his    appearance 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  187 

would  indicate  that  he  was  the  dreaded  leader, 
who  had  spread  terror  throughout  the  South  among 
the  enemies  of  his  country. 

The  business  of  exchange  having  been  arranged, 
Marion  turned  to  his  guest,  and  said, 

''My  dear  sir,  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you 
dine  with  me.  It  has  been  some  time  since  you 
have  had  food,  and  you  will  feel  better  for  having 
eaten.     Our  dinner  is  nearly  ready." 

The  officer  readily  consented,  and  looked  for- 
ward to  the  enjoyment  of  a  meal  for  which  he  was 
quite  eager.  In  a  few  minutes,  a  log  was  brought, 
upon  which  the  officer  and  Marion  took  their  seats. 
Then  the  cook  appeared,  carrying  a  large  piece  of 
bark,  upon  which  there  were  some  roasted  sweet 
potatoes. 

"Help  yourself,"  said  Marion.  ''This  is  all  we 
have  for  dinner  to-day,"  and,  taking  a  large  potato 
he  broke  it  in  two,  and  placed  it  before  his  guest. 

"Surely,  you  have  more  food  than  this!"  ex- 
claimed the  astonished  soldier.  "This  cannot  be 
your  ordinary  fare." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Marion,  "only  we  have 
more  than  usual  to-day,  there  being  a  guest  to 
serve!" 

The  officer  ate  his  potato  in  silence.  On  return- 
ing   to    Georgetown,    he    resigned    his    commission, 


188  A^IERICA  FIRST 


saying  that  a  people  who  could  live  on  such  simple 
fare  in  order  to  gain  their  liberty  should  be  allowed 
their  independence. 

For  many  years,  Marion  and  his  men  carried  on 
their  rude  but  effective  warfare,  and,  in  the  end, 
did  such  valuable  service  to  the  American  cause 
that  the  large  armies  of  General  Greene  were  en- 
abled to  drive  the  British  from  the  Southern 
States. 


OUTWITTING  A  TORY 

During  the  Revolution,  the  soldiers  of  Sumter 
and  Marion  in  the  South  were  very  annoying  to 
the  British  Commanders.  The  most  notorious  of 
these  Commanders  was  Colonel  Tarleton,  and  many 
are  the  stories  of  his  cruelty.  He  was  active  in 
plundering  and  burning  the  homes  of  the  sturdy 
Patriots.  Tarleton  hked  nothing  better  than  to 
destroy  the  fields  and  harry  the  family  of  some 
patriot  soldier  who  happened  to  be  away  with 
Marion  or  Sumter. 

Not  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  were 
Patriots.  Some  still  adhered  to  the  British  cause. 
These  were  bitterly  hated  by  their  neighbors,  and 
were  called  Tories. 

During  one  of  the  raids  of  Colonel  Tarleton,  a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  189 

young  Scotchman,  named  MacDonald,  one  of 
Marion's  soldiers  decided  to  play  a  trick  upon  a 
man  living  in  his  neighborhood,  whom  he  suspected 
of  being  a  Tory.  As  soon  as  MacDonald  heard 
that  Tarleton  was  near  by,  he  put  on  a  British  uni- 
form, and,  early  one  morning,  calling  at  the  house 
of  the  man,  said  to  him: 

"The  compliments,  sir,  of  Colonel  Tarleton,  who 
sends  you  his  respects  as  being  one  of  the  friends 
of  the  King." 

''Come  in!  come  in!"  cried  the  Tory,  much 
delighted  to  have  a  visit  from  a  British  officer. 
''You  say  that  Colonel  Tarleton  sends  me  his  com- 
pliments, and  knows  that  I  am  a  friend  of  the 
King?  Why,  indeed,  I  am,  and  am  ready  to  show 
it  at  any  time.     Tell  the  Colonel  so." 

"That  I  will,"  replied  MacDona^ld.  "But  Colonel 
Tarleton  is  already  in  need  of  your  aid,  and  de- 
sires me  to  beg  of  you  one  of  your  fine  horses  for 
him  to  ride.  He  will  use  it  in  driving  these  rebels 
out  of  the  country." 

"One  of  my  horses!"  cried  the  old  Tory.  "That 
I  will,  gladly.  He  shall  have  the  best  in  my  pas- 
ture. I  shall  get  him  at  once.  I  am  honored  to 
furnish  the  Colonel  with  a  horse!" 

Whereupon  the  Tory  called  his  negro  servant, 
and  gave  orders  that  the  best  horse  in  his  stable 


190  A.MERICA  FIRST 


should  be  brought  out  and  made  ready  for  the 
British  officer  to  take  away  with  him.  \Miile  the 
servant  was  gone,  the  Tory  brought  out  rich  food 
and  wine,  and  spread  it  before  ]MacDonald,  who 
did  not  hesitate  to  eat  and  drink  to  his  heart's 
content. 

T\Tien  the  horse  arrived,  a  beautiful  young  ani- 
mal, the  sly  old  Tory  said, 

"Now,  you  tell  the  Colonel  I  send  this  with  my 
compliments,  and,  if  I  find  he  can  ever  do  me  a 
favor,  I  shall  come  to  ask  him." 

"That  I  shall,  the  very  next  time  I  see  him," 
said  MacDonald,  and  rode  away  on  the  full-blooded 
steed.  But,  instead  of  going  to  the  headquarters 
of  the  British  Army,  MacDonald  rode  off  to  the 
swamps,  where  Marion  and  his  men  were  in  hid- 
ing. Here  he  told  them  how  he  had  fooled  the 
old  Tory.  They  laughed  a  long  time  over  the 
story. 

"Of  course  we  could  have  taken  the  horse  any- 
how, but  I  wanted  to  be  sure  he  was  a  Tory,  and 
then,  I  enjoy  a  joke.  I  would  like  to  hear  what 
he  will  have  to  say  w^hen  he  finds  out  his  mis- 
take," declared  MacDonald  to  his  companions. 

The  next  morning  the  old  Tory  went  to  see 
Colonel  Tarleton,  and  presented  himself  \\'ith  a 
smiling  face.  Tarleton  received  him  coldly,  and 
inquired  his  business. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  191 

''How  do  you  like  the  horse  I  sent  you  yester- 
day?"   asked  the  smihng  Tory. 

"What  horse?"  demanded  Tarleton.  "No  one 
sent  me  a  horse  yesterday  or  any  other  day." 

"\Miy,  a  British  officer  came  to  my  house,  and 
said  you  sent  him  for  one  of  my  fine  horses;  I 
gave  it  to  him,  with  a  saddle  and  blanket,  a  pair 
of  silver  mounted  pistols,  and  a  rain  coat;  and  he 
had,  heavens  Imows  how  much,  food  and  drink," 
cried  the  bewildered  Tory. 

"Somebody  has  been  fooling  you,  old  man.  I 
have  not  seen  or  heard  of  your  horse,"  said  Tar- 
leton, turning  away. 

The  Tory  now  reahzed  the  trick  that  had  been 
played  upon  him.  He  swore  roundly  that  he 
would  get  even  with  those  rascally  rebels,  if  it 
took  him  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  then  went  home  in 
a  great  rage;  but  he  never  saw  his  fine  horse  again. 

As  for  MacDonald  and  his  new  friend,  they  be- 
came inseparable.  It  was  a  beautiful  horse,  six- 
teen hands  high,  with  the  eyes  of  an  eagle,  and  a 
proud  spirit  in  his  veins.  The  road  was  never  too 
long  for  him,  and  the  run  never  too  swift.  He 
learned  his  master's  voice  and  whistle,  and,  when 
he  heard  the  call,  he  came  like  the  wind,  bearing 
him  swiftly  into  battle,  or  safely  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  enemies. 


192  A^IERICA  FIRST 


SUPPORTING  THE  COLORS 

Among  the  heroes  of  the  Revolution,  none  were 
more  famous  for  their  adventures  than  Marion's 
men.  They  Hved  in  the  woods  and  swamps,  some- 
times a  large  body,  and  sometimes  a  small  body 
but  always  ready  to  sally  forth  under  their  leader, 
Francis  Marion,  to  punish  the  enemy. 

The  best  known  of  all  these  men  was  Sergeant 
William  Jasper.  He  was  very  brave,  and  in  no 
way  did  he  seem  to  fear  for  his  life.  At  the  battle 
of  Fort  Moultrie,  Jasper  was  busily  engaged. 
\Miile  the  struggle  was  at  its  height,  with  danger 
at  its  greatest,  he  saw  the  flag  of  the  fort  fall  out- 
side the  works.  It  had  been  carried  away  by  a 
shot  from  the  enemy. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  leaped  over 
the  walls  of  the  fort,  jumped  down  into  the  ditch, 
and  picked  up  the  flag  where  it  lay  on  the  ground. 
Coolly  fastening  it  to  a  rod,  which  was  used  for 
wiping  out  the  cannon,  he  leaped  back  on  to  the 
wall  of  the  fort,  and  stuck  the  rod  in  the  sand  of 
the  breastworks. 

Shot  rained  thick  around  him,  and  it  seemed 
every  moment  as  if  he  would  be  killed.  But  he 
finished  his  work,  left  the  flag  waving  defiance  to 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  193 

the  enemy,  and  quietly  took  his  place  in  the  ranks 
with  his  men. 

General  Moultrie  was  so  struck  with  admiration 
by  this  deed  that  he  unbuckled  his  own  sword, 
and  handed  it  to  Jasper,  saying,  ''Take  this,  and 
wear  it.  You  have  committed  a  deed  of  great 
bravery,  and  I  honor  you  for  it." 

lATien  the  soldiers  were  hiding  in  the  woods  of 
South  Carolina,  Jasper  was  often  sent  into  the 
British  lines  to  find  out  what  the  enemy  was  doing. 
He  was  a  good  scout,  and  could  so  change  his 
appearance  that  nobody  recognized  him.  His  fa- 
vorite amusement  was  to  pretend  to  be  a  simple- 
minded  countryman,  who  had  something  to  sell. 
In  this  guise  he  would  find  his  way  into  the  British 
camps.  There  he  would  abuse  the  Americans  and 
praise  the  British,  but  his  keen  eye  meanwhile 
learned  a  great  deal  that  would  be  of  value  to  his 
Commander. 

Upon  one  of  these  risky  visits,  Jasper  and  a 
friend,  named  Newton,  saw  a  body  of  American 
prisoners  brought  in.  The  wife  of  one  of  them  had 
come  along,  carrying  a  little  child.  She  was  cry- 
ing, and  seemed  in  great  distress,  for  she  knew  her 
husband  had  once  been  a  soldier  on  the  British 
side,  and  had  deserted  to  fight  for  his  own  coun- 
try. This  meant  quick  trial  and  certain  death  for 
desertion. 


194  AMERICA  FIRST 


Jasper  felt  sorry  for  the  couple,  and  resolved  to 
rescue  them,  if  he  could.  The  prisoners  started, 
under  escort,  for  Savannah,  where  they  would 
stand  trial.  Jasper  and  Newton  quietly  left  the 
British  camp,  and  went  in  an  opposite  direction, 
after  pretending  that  *'the  scoundrels  ought  to  be 
shot." 

Soon,  they  turned,  and  made  their  way  back 
toward  Savannah.  The  two  had  no  guns,  nor 
weapons  of  any  kind,  but  they  were  determined 
to  rescue  the  unfortunate  prisoners,  if  they  could. 

Within  two  miles  of  Savannah,  they  stopped  on 
the  edge  of  a  forest,  near  a  spring;  there  they  hid 
themselves,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  prisoners 
and  their  guard.  It  was  not  long  before  the  party, 
consisting  of  ten  British  soldiers  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners,  came  into  view. 

The  soldiers  were  tired.  The  spring  looked  cool 
and  inviting,  and  the  day  was  warm.  Leaning 
their  guns  against  the  trees,  they  took  off  their 
knapsacks,  drank  freely  of  the  water,  and  lay 
down  to  rest.  Two  soldiers  only  were  left  in  charge 
of  the  guns  and  the  prisoners.  The  latter  sat  on 
the  ground,  and  Jasper  could  see  the  woman  near 
her  husband,  with  the  baby  asleep  in  her  lap. 

"Now  is  the  time,"  whispered  Jasper  to  Newton. 
At    the    word,    the    brave    men    sprang    from    the 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  195 

thicket,  seized  the  guns  from  the  trees,  and  shot 
down  the  two  sentinels.  The  others  cried  out  in 
dismay  and  sprang  to  their  feet.  But  it  was  too 
late,*  for  they  found  their  own  guns  levelled  at 
them,  by  two  very  brave  and  determined  Patriots. 
"Surrender  at  once,  or  you  are  dead  men,"  cried 
Jasper. 

The  British  threw  up  their  hands,  and  became 
the  prisoners  of  those  whom,  a  short  while  before, 
they  had  been  guarding.  The  party  then  turned 
about,  on  their  way  now  to  the  American  camp. 

Not  long  after  this,  Jasper  was  among  the 
troops  that  assaurted  Savannah,  trying  to  capture 
it  from  the  British.  The  column  to  which  he  be- 
longed had  pressed  forward  over  ditches  and  para- 
pets, and  had  planted  the  flag  of  South  Carolina 
on  the  works  of  the  enemy. 

A  storm  of  shot  and  shell  drove  back  the  Caro- 
linians, and  cut  down  the  staff  that  held  the  flag. 
Jasper  saw  that  the  flag  would  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  British,  and  ran  back  to  get  it;  in  doing  so 
he  received  a  mortal  wound. 

He  was  borne  from  the  field,  and  carried  to  his 
death-bed.  He  exclaimed,  ''I  have  at  last  got  my 
furlough." 

Pointing  to  his  sword,  he  said  to  those  around 
him,   "That  was  presented  to  me  for  my  services 


196  AMERICA  FIRST 


in  defense  of  Fort  Moultrie.  Give  it  to  my  father, 
and  tell  him  I  have  worn  it  with  honor.  If  he 
should  weep,  say  to  him  that  his  son  died  in  the 
hope  of  a  better  life." 

A  little  later,  they  brought  him  the  flag  he  had 
rescued.     Looking  at  it,  he  smiled.  $ 

"Tell  Mrs.  Elliott,"  he  said,  "that  I  lost  my 
life  supporting  the  colors  which  she  presented  to 
our  regiment." 

As  death  drew  near,  the  brave  officer  began 
faintly  to  recall  many  scenes  of  battle  in  which  he 
had  taken  part.  He  sent  a  farewell  message  to 
his  Commander  and  his  men,  and  to  the  prisoners 
he  had  rescued  at  the  spring.  His  last  words, 
breathed  to  a  friend  nearby,  were,  "I  am  glad  to 
have  saved  their  lives,  and  I  do  not  mind  losing 
mine;    for  I  was  supporting  the  colors." 


NANCY  HART,  THE  WAR  WOI^IAN  OF 
GEORGIA 

Among  the  remarkable  women  of  the  Revolu- 
tion was  Nancy  Hart,  the  sturdy  wife  of  a  farmer. 
She  lived  in  a  log  cabin,  in  one  of  the  counties  of 
Georgia.  She  was  very  muscular,  was  six  feet  tall, 
cross-eyed,  and  had  a  vicious  temper.     She  hated 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  197 


the  Tories,  who  were  the  American  sympathizers 
with  the  British,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  to 
show  her  feehng  for  them. 

There  are  many  stories  told  of  the  courage  of 
Nancy  Hart.  One  evening  she  and  her  children 
were  sitting  around  a  log  fire,  over  which  a  pot  of 
soap  w^as  hanging.  Nancy  w^as  stirring  the  boiling 
soap  with  a  big  ladle,  and  was  telhng  the  children 
some  exciting  adventures  of  the  war.  Suddenly, 
one  of  the  children  heard  some  one  creeping  up  to 
the  house,  and  noticed  an  eye  peeping  through  the 
cracks  between  the  logs.  "Tories,  mother,  Tories," 
whispered  the  child. 

Nancy  nodded,  but  w^ent  on  talking  and  stirring 
the  soap,  while  she  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  the 
eyes.  Suddenly,  she  dashed  a  ladle  of  the  scalding 
soap  through  the  crack  full  into  the  face  of  the 
eavesdropper,  who,  taken  by  surprise  and  blinded 
wdth  pain,  roared  at  a  great  rate! 

Nancy  soon  had  him  bound,  hand  and  foot,  and 
hastened  to  turn  him  over  to  the  Patriots. 

When  the  Tories  w^ere  overrunning  Georgia, 
Nancy  one  day  heard  the  tramp  of  a  horse  rapidly 
approaching  her  cabin.  It  was  a  Patriot  riding 
for  life,  pursued  by  a  party  of  British.  She  let 
down  the  bars  of  the  fence  before  her  cabin,  ordered 
the  man  to  go  around  to  the  back,  and  disappear. 


198  AMERICA   FIRST 


if  he  had  time,  in  the  woods.  She  then  put  up 
the  bars,  closed  the  door  of  her  cabin,  and  waited. 

In  a  few  moments  some  Tories  rode  up,  and 
called  out  noisily  to  her.  She  wTapped  her  head 
up  in  an  old  shawl  and,  opening  the  door  cautiously, 
asked,  in  a  complaining  voice,  why  they  w^anted  to 
disturb  a  sick,  lone  woman. 

*'Have  you  seen  or  heard  anybody  on  horseback 
pass  this  way?"    they  demanded. 

"No,"  replied  Nancy,  "but  I  saw  some  one  on  a 
sorrel  horse  turn  into  the  woods  a  little  way  up 
the  road." 

"That  is  our  man,"  they  said,  and  rode  away  in 
search  of  him. 

"What  fools!"  exclaimed  Nancy.  "If  they  had 
looked  at  the  ground,  instead  of  at  me,  they  could 
have  seen  the  tracks  of  a  horse  coming  up  to  my 
house,  and  leading  around  to  the  swamp." 

Not  long  afterwards,  a  party  of  five  or  six  Tories, 
who  had  been  on  a  murder  expedition  in  a  neigh- 
boring county,  reached  Nancy  Hart's  cabin.  Enter- 
ing boldly,  they  demanded  food.  Nancy's  hus- 
band and  the  other  members  of  her  family  w^ere 
away  at  w^ork  in  the  fields,  and  Nancy  was  alone, 
except  for  one  little  girl. 

She  replied,  "I  never  feed  the  King's  men.  The 
villains    have    stolen    my    chickens    and    killed    my 


STORIES  OF  OUR   OWN   HISTORY  199 

pigs,  SO  that  I  can  hardly  feed  my  own  family.     I 
haven't  anything  but  that  old  turkey." 

''Well,  thai  you  shall  cook  for  us,"  said  one  of 
the  Tories;  and,  raising  his  gun,  he  fired  at  the 
turkey,  which  fell  dead.  Another  Tory  brought  it 
to  the  house,  and  soon  it.  was  clean  and  ready. 
So  Nancy  put  it  on  to  cook,  and  sent  her  little 
daughter  to  the  spring  for  w^ater. 

"Tell  your  father  and  the  others  to  come  quickly; 
there  are  Tories  in  the  house,"  she  whispered  to 
the  child. 

Soon  the  turkey  was  ready  to  eat.  The  Tories 
began  drinking  and  singing,  and  boasted  of  their 
exploits  in  killing  several  Patriots  a  few  days  be- 
fore. Nancy  recognized  the  names  of  these  victims 
as  persons  she  knew,  and  her  blood  was  hot  with 
rage.  The  soldiers  had  stacked  their  guns  in  one 
corner,  and  now  drew  near  the  table,  ready  for 
the  meal.  Nancy  waited  on  them,  frequently  pass- 
ing between  them  and  their  guns  in  the  corner. 

Suddenly,  the  brave  woman  seized  one  of  the 
weapons,  and  pointed  it  at  the  party.  They  sprang 
up  in  terror,  while  she  sw^ore  she  would  shoot  the 
first  man  that  moved  a  foot.  One  of  them  started 
forward,  and,  true  to  her  word,  she  fired  and 
killed  him  where  he  stood. 

By  this   time   the   little   girl  had  returned   from 


200  .\:V1ERICA   FIRST 


the  spring,  and  Nancy  called  out  to  her,  "Go,  call 
your  father  and  the  neighbors.  Tell  them  I  have 
caught  some  base  Tories."  The  child  ran  to  the 
fields,  while  the  men,  in  alarm,  tried  to  seize  the 
intrepid  woman.  She  fired  again,  and  another  man 
fell  badly  wounded. 

Before  the  others  could  escape,  Nancy's  husband 
and  some  of  the  neighbors  rushed  in,  and  bound 
the  Tories  hand  and  foot.  The  neighbors  would 
have  shot  them,  but  Nancy  said,  "No!  shooting 
is  too  good  for  the  base  murderers.  They  must 
hang  for  their  crimes!" 

This  was  enough.  It  was  not  long  before  they 
were  all  hanging  to  a  tree,  which  was  pointed  out 
to  passersby,  for  fifty  years  afterwards,  as  the 
spot  where  Nancy  Hart  avenged  the  death  of  her 
countrymen. 


MAD  ANTHONY  CAPTURES  STONY 
POINT 

Anthony  Wayne  was  about  thirty  years  old. 
He  was  a  handsome  young  officer  in  Washington's 
army,  and  fond  of  fine  uniforms  and  military 
equipment.  He  was  a  very  dandy  in  his  appear- 
ance, but,  when  his  spirit  was  aroused  in  battle,  he 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  201 


forgot  all  his  fine  manners  in  reckless  daring.     His 
men  spoke  of  him  as  "Mad  Anthony." 

Indeed,  he  was  about  the  hardest  fighter  of  the 
Revolution.  In  battle,  his  eye  would  blaze  with 
fury,  and  his  face  flashed  with  the  glory  of  con- 
flict that  was  wonderful  to  see.  He  was  afraid 
of  notliing,  and  counted  his  own  life  as  naught 
when  it  came  to  winning  a  fight. 

Washington's  army  was  in  New  Jersey,  near 
New  York.  The  British  held  a  large  part  of  the 
Hudson  River,  and  had  fortified  Stony  Point,  only 
thirteen  miles  below  West  Point.  This  position  con- 
trolled the  King's  Ferry,  where  troops  and  supplies 
were  ferried  across  to  support  the  Patriot  army. 

The  fort  was  on  a  bluff  nearly  two  hundred  feet 
high,  jutting  out  into  the  river,  a  half  mile  from 
shore.  A  marshy  neck  crossed  by  a  causeway 
separated  it  from  the  mainland.  The  top  of  this 
rocky  point  was  strongly  protected  with  cannon 
that  defended  it  in  all  directions. 

Along  the  causeway,  and  in  the  marshes,  the 
British  had  driven  logs,  sharpened  on  ends  which 
pointed  outwards  so  as  to  form  what,  in  mihtary 
terms,  is  called  an  "abatis."  These  logs  were  sup- 
posed to  make  a  barrier  that  would  stop  the  ad- 
vance of  enemy  troops  long  enough  for  the  guns 
of  the  fort  to  annihilate  them  completely. 


20^2  AMERICA   FIRST 


Washington  decided  to  attack  Stony  Point,  and 
chose  "Mad  iVnthony"  for  the  purpose.  He  rode 
out,  one  day,  to  look  over  the  situation. 

"There  is  no  one  who  can  take  that  fort  better 
than  Wayne,"  said  Washington,  "but  it  requires 
all  his  skill  and  daring.  Ten  minutes  warning  to 
those  troops  in  the  fort  would  blast  all  our  topes." 

The  Commander-in-Chief  gave  orders  to  kill 
every  dog  within  three  miles  of  the  camp,  in  order 
to  prevent  them  from  barking  when  the  time  came 
for  the  Americans  to  approach  the  fort.  He  also 
ordered  all  stragglers  arrested  or  kept  away. 

One  Captain  reported:  "Arrested  the  widow 
Calhoun,  going  to  the  enemy  with  chickens  and 
vegetables." 

In  this  way  did  Washington  plan.  And  now  it 
was  time  for  Wayne  to  act! 

About  thirteen  hundred  picked  men  were  chosen 
for  the  attack.  They  were  lined  up  for  inspection, 
w^ith  orders  to  be  in  marching  trim,  fully  armed 
and  provisioned,  "fresh-shaved  and  powdered." 
After  inspection,  they  marched  away,  instead  of 
returning  to  camp.  Not  one  of  them  had  an  idea 
of  his  mission,  or  of  th<e  danger  of  the  enterprise 
upon  which  he  had  started. 

"If  any  soldier  loads  his  musket,  or  attempts 
to  fire,  or  tries  to  shirk  his  duty  in  face  of  danger. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  203 

he  must  be  put  to  death  by  the  officer  nearest 
him.  This  is  a  struggle  in  which  I  take  no  risks, 
and  absolute  quiet  is  necessary,"  were  the  com- 
mands of  Wayne. 

One  man  started  to  load  his  gun.  The  officer 
called  sharply  to  him  to  desist,  and  gave  him 
warning.  "I  cannot  fight  without  firing  my  gun," 
replied  the  soldier,  and  continued  to  put  in  the 
powder  charge.  The  officer  then  ran  his  sword 
through  the  soldier's  body,  and  left  him  dead  on 
the  road.  He  had  to  do  this,  so  as  to  save  the 
lives  of  the  other  men,  and  to  carry  out  success- 
fully the  plan  of  attack. 

All  the  hot  July  afternoon  the  men  marched 
along  the  rough  roads,  through  swamps  and  ravines, 
until  they  came  to  a  place  about  a  mile  from 
Stony  Point.  Not  a  sound  was  heard.  The  sol- 
diers sank  upon  the  ground,  and,  in  silence,  ate 
their  supper  of  bread  and  meat. 

Then  Wayne  passed  the  word  —  what  he  in- 
tended to  do.  It  was  the  first  notice  the  troops 
had  had  of  what  was  before  them.  It  seemed  a 
hopeless  task  to  attack  a  strong  fort,  across  a 
swamp,  protected  by  an  abatis  of  heavy  logs. 
But  "Mad  Anthony"  was  to  lead  the  charge,  and 
Patriots  were  his  soldiers. 

At  half -past  eleven  came  the  quiet  order:    ''Fall 


204  AIVIERICA   FIRST 


in!  Forward  march!"  Every  man  pinned  a  piece 
of  white  paper  or  cloth  to  his  cap,  that  he  might 
be  distinguished  in  the  darkness  from  the  enemy, 
and  not  be  killed  by  his  own  men.  Not  a  sound 
was  uttered,  every  footstep  was  quiet,  and  not  an 
equipment  rattled  as  the  men  started  forward. 
The  watchword  was  *'The  fort  is  our  own." 

An  old  negro,  named  Pompey,  who  had  been 
selling  fruit  to  the  British,  was  engaged  as  guide. 
He  knew^  the  short  cuts  through  the  woods,  and 
the  road  across  the  swamp.  At  midnight,  the 
silent  band  of  Americans  reached  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  and  waded  in. 

"Steady!  Make  no  noise!  Let  the  men  with 
axes  go  first,  so  as  to  cut  down  the  abatis.  The 
rest  of  you  rush  in  and  follow  me,"  were  the 
whispered  orders  Wayne  passed  down  the  column. 

The  water  was  waist  deep  in  places,  for  the  tide 
w^as  in.  The  marsh  was  six  hundred  feet  across. 
The  night  was  dark,  and  the  danger  very  great. 
The  column  moved  as  if  on  parade.  Yard  by  yard 
they  silently  crossed  the  marsh,  and,  at  last,  found 
themselves  close  to  the  outer  defenses  of  the 
British. 

"Halt!  Who  goes  there .^"  cried  a  British  sen- 
try. No  answer  from  the  steadily  advancing  Pa- 
triots!    The  sentry,  catching  sight  of  troops,  fired 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  205 

his  gun  for  a  general  alarm.  The  sleeping  British 
leaped  from  their  beds.  The  "long  roll"  was 
sounded,  calling  the  men  to  fall  in  and  repel  an 
attack.  They  were  taken  by  complete  surprise,  and 
the  battle  was  on  before  they  had  time  to  think. 

The  Patriot  axmen  rushed  forward,  and  cut 
away  the  logs,  while  the  bullets  whizzed  over  their 
heads.  The  main  columns  of  Americans  climbed 
over  the  wall  and  formed  in  line  on  the  other  side. 
A  small  attacking  party  made  a  detour  around  the 
fort,  and  opened  a  brisk  fire  on  that  side.  The 
British  guns  were  turned  upon  them,  and  a  British 
force  was  sent  down  to  engage  them,  thinking  they 
were  the  main  body  of  the  enemy.  But  the  small 
attacking  force  withdrew,  leading  off  their  prisoners, 
while  the  main  body  of  the  Patriots  rushed  in  and 
took  the  fort,  crying  out,  "The  fort  is  our  own! 
The  fort  is  our  own!" 

Wayne  was  shot  in  the  head  by  a  musket  ball, 
and  fell  to  the  gi'ound,  blood  covering  his  face. 
"Take  me  into  the  fort  and  let  me  die  at  the  head 
of  my  troops,"  he  said  to  the  officer  near  him.  It 
turned  out  to  be  only  a  flesh  wound,  and  so  "Mad 
Anthony"  was  able  to  enter  the  battle  again. 

The  bayonet  did  its  grim  work  of  death.  The 
British  fled,  crying  out,  "Mercy!  Mercy!  Quar- 
ter!    Quarter!     We  surrender!" 


206  a:merica  first 


In  thirty  minutes  it  was  all  over,  and  Stony 
Point  was  captured.  Only  one  British  soldier  es- 
caped. He  leaped  into  the  river,  and  swam  a  mile 
to  a  British  ship,  and  here  he  told  of  the  exploits 
of  ''Mad  Anthony  AYayne  and  his  terrible  men." 


THE  EXECUTION  OF  IVIAJOR  ANDRE 

Major  Andre  was  a  British  officer,  who  bargained 
w^th  Benedict  Arnold  for  the  surrender  of  West 
Point.  The  agreement  was  made  at  a  meeting 
between  Arnold  and  Andre,  and  would  have  re- 
sulted in  serious  calamity  to  the  American  forces, 
if  Andre  had  not  been  captured  on  his  way  to 
New  York,  and  the  tell-tale  papers  discovered 
hidden  in  his  boots. 

Andre  was  declared  a  spy.  The  fact  that  he 
was  a  brave  young  officer,  whom  every  one  ad- 
mired, could  not  save  him  from  the  fate  of  all 
spies,  caught  within  the  enemy's  lines.  He  was 
tried  by  court-martial,  and  condemned  to  be 
hanged.  Andre  had  hoped  that  the  Court  w^ould 
order  him  to  be  shot,  as  befitted  his  rank,  but  this 
was  not  to  be! 

When  the  time  arrived  for  his  execution,  he  re- 
ceived the  news  without  emotion.     All  present  were 


STORIES   OF   OUR  OWN   HISTORY  207 


deeply  affected,  but  Andre  kept  a  cheerful  coun- 
tenance, and  talked  In  his  usual  manner  with  those 
around  him.  His  servant  came  into  the  room,  and 
x\ndre  noticed  tears  in  his  eyes.  Seeing  this,  he 
exclaimed,  ''You  must  not  give  way  thus.  Leave 
me  till  you  can  show  yourself  more  manly." 

His  breakfast  was  sent  him  from  the  table  of 
GeneraH Washington.  Every  day  during  his  con- 
finement this  had  been  done.  He  ate  as  usual; 
then  shaved  and  dressed.  Placing  his  hat  on  the 
table,  he  said  to  the  officers,  "I  am  ready  at  any 
moment,  gentlemen,  to  wait  on  you." 

The  fatal  hour  came  at  last!  A  large  body  of 
troops  was  paraded,  and  an  important  gathering 
of  citizens  assembled.  Many  generals  and  field 
officers  were  present.  Washington  did  not  attend. 
The  scene  was  solemn,  and  gloom  pervaded  all 
ranks.  Major  Andre  walked  from  the  stone  house, 
where  he  had  been  confined,  between  two  soldiers, 
showing  the  greatest  dignity  and  composure. 

He  smiled  as  he  approached  the  scaffold,  and 
nodded  to  several  acquaintances  as  he  passed  them. 
When  he  saw  that  he  was  to  be  hanged,  and  not 
shot,  he  was  visibly  moved,  and  said,  "I  am  recon- 
ciled to  my  death,  and  shall  bear  it  as  a  brave 
man  should,  but  I  had  hoped  to  be  shot  as  a  sol- 
dier rather  than  hanged  as  a  felon." 


208  AMERICA   FIRST 


As  soon  as  things  were  in  readiness,  he  stepped 
quickly  into  the  wagon,  drawn  under  the  gallows, 
and  took  tw^o  white  handkerchiefs  from  his  pocket. 
He  then  grasped  the  rope  that  hung  from  the  gal- 
lows, and  slipped  the  noose  around  his  own  neck. 
He  gave  one  handkerchief  to  the  provost-marshal 
to  bind  his  arms  behind  him,  and,  with  the  other, 
he  bandaged  his  own  eyes. 

"It  will  be  but  a  momentary  pang,"  he  said  to 
those  around  him.  "I  pray  you  to  bear  me  wit- 
ness that  I  meet  my  fate  like  a  brave  man." 

The  wagon  was  then  drawn  from  under  him, 
and,  in  a  few  moments,  he  had  ceased  struggling 
and  was  dead.  He  w^as  dressed  in  his  royal  regi- 
mentals and  boots,  and  was  buried  at  the  foot  of 
the  gallows.  Thus  died,  in  the  bloom  of  his  life, 
the    gallant    Major    Andre,    pride    of    the    Royal 


Army ! 


HOW  GENERAL  SCHUSTER  WAS 
SAVED 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  Revolution,  the 
war  was  carried  on  mainly  in  the  South.  Still,  the 
people  of  the  North  were  frequently  attacked  by 
parties  of  Indians  and  Tories,  who  descended  upon 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  209 

the  small  towns  and  outlying  houses,  killing  the 
inmates  and  carrying  off  all  the  plunder  they  could 
find. 

At  this  time,  General  Schuyler  was  living  in  his 
own  home,  near  Albany,  just  outside  the  wall,  or 
stockade.  It  was  a  tempting  bait  for  the  Tories 
and  Indians.  A  party  of  them  resolved  to  capture 
the  General  and  his  family,  and  to  plunder  the 
house. 

AMien  the  marauders  w^ere  on  the  way,  they 
found  out  from  a  Dutch  farmer,  whom  they  had 
taken,  that  the  General's  house  was  guarded  by 
six  soldiers,  three  by  day  and  three  by  night. 
They  told  the  Dutchman  they  would  punish  him 
if  he  mentioned  seeing  them,  or  if,  in  any  way, 
he  warned  the  General  of  their  approach.  They 
then  let  the  Dutchman  go;  and,  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  sight,  he  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  to 
tell  the  General  of  the  attack. 

The  Schuyler  family  were  all  seated  in  the  wide 
hall  dow^nstairs.  The  doors  and  window^s  w^ere 
open,  for  it  was  a  hot  day  in  August.  The  guard 
was  outside  under  the  shade  of  the  trees.  Nobody 
was  suspicious  of  danger.  In  fact,  the  General  was 
dozing  in  his  chair. 

A  servant  entered  the  back  door,  and  said, 
"There  is  a  man  outside  who  Welshes  to  speak  to 


210  AMERICA   FIRST 


the  General."  The  General  ordered  him  to  be 
shown  in.  The  Dutchman  entered,  and  told  of 
his  meeting  with  the  party  of  Indians.  In  fact, 
hardly  had  he  delivered  his  message  before  a 
scuffle  in  the  yard  showed  to  the  dismayed  family 
that  the  enemy  had  actually  arrived,  overpowered 
the  guard,  and  bound  them  hand  and  foot. 

Schuyler  hastily  barred  the  doors  and  windows, 
and  retired  with  his  family  to  the  upper  rooms. 
The  Indians  approached  the  house,  and  tried  the 
doors.  Then,  running  to  a  window,  they  smashed 
the  panes  of  glass,  and  made  an  entrance  to  the 
house.  Schuyler,  up -stairs,  with  his  gun  in  hand, 
stood  ready  to  defend  himself  and  his  family. 
Around  him  were  his  negro  slaves,  each  one  with 
some  kind  of  weapon.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  the  women  wxre  huddled  in  fear,  weeping 
and  praying.  In  the  mind  of  each  arose  the  hor- 
rible tales  of  Indian  cruelty,  so  common  in  that 
day. 

Just  as  the  Indians  entered,  Mrs.  Schuyler  cried 
out,  "My  baby!  My  baby!  I  have  left  him  down- 
stairs in  his  cradle."  She  made  a  rush  for  the 
stairs.  Her  agony  was  extreme,  and  only  the 
strong  arms  of  her  husband  kept  her  from  going 
down  amidst  the  savages,  to  snatch  her  child  from 
death. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  211 


General  Schuyler  held  her,  and  told  her  it  would 
be  death  for  both  her  and  the  baby,  if  she  should 
carry  out  her  purpose.  As  they  were  thus  hesitat- 
ing, one  of  their  daughters  said,  "  I  will  go  after 
my  httle  brother.  They  will  not  see  me."  With 
that,  she  slipped  past  her  mother  and  father,  and, 
in  a  moment,  was  down  in  the  hall. 

It  was  dark  because  the  doors  and  shutters  had 
been  closed.  The  Indians  were  in  the  dining-room, 
devouring  food,  breaking  china  and  furniture,  and 
quarreling  over  their  spoils.  The  girl  darted  by 
the  open  door,  and  reached  the  cradle  where  the 
baby  lay  asleep.  Seizing  the  child  in  her  arms, 
she  started  on  her  way  up-stairs,  when  she  was 
discovered  by  one  of  the  Tories. 

He  thought  she  was  a  servant-girl,  and  called 
out  to  her,  ''Here,  where  has  your  master  gone.^" 
The  brave  girl,  half-way  up  the  steps,  turned  and 
rephed, 

"  My  master  has  gone  to  the  town  to  alarm  the 
people.  He  will  be  here  any  moment  with  some 
troops." 

When  General  Schuyler  heard  his  daughter  make 
this  brave  retort,  he  w^ent  to  an  open  window  up- 
stairs, and  fired  his  pistol  several  times.  He  then 
called  out  in  a  loud  voice, 

"Come  on,  my  brave  men!     Here  they  are  in- 


212  AMERICA  FIRST 


side  the  house!  Surround  the  buildings,  and  let 
no  one  escape." 

He  then  made  his  negro  slaves  put  their  heads 
out  of  the  windows,  and  utter  loud  yells  of  de- 
fiance. The  Indians  and  Tories  recognized  Schuy- 
ler's voice,  and,  hearing  all  this  noise  outside, 
thought  that  surely  troops  had  come  to  the  rescue. 
They  broke  out  of  the  house  more  quickly  than 
they  had  broken  in,  and  ran  away  much  faster 
than  they  had  come,  pursued  by  shots  from  the 
General's  rifles,  and  shouts  from  his  slaves. 

'*  My  brave  little  girl,"  said  Schuyler  to  his 
daughter,  ''you  have  had  courage  to  do  a  brave 
deed,  and  wit  enough  to  get  us  out  of  trouble." 


AN  INDIAN  TRICK  THAT  FAILED 

The  Indians  were  full  of  all  kinds  of  devices  to 
deceive  their  enemies;  and  they  would  often  re- 
sort to  many  methods  to  get  within  striking  dis- 
tance of  their  victims.  They  could  imitate  the 
sounds  of  the  forest,  the  call  of  birds,  the  cry  of 
wild  beasts,  the  very  noises  of  nature  herself;  one 
could  scarcely  tell  the  difference. 

During  the  Revolution,  a  regiment  of  soldiers 
was   so  placed  that  a  large  guard  was  needed  to 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  213 

protect  the  main  body  from  surprise.  There  was 
one  special  post  where  sentinels  were  placed  on 
guard,  and  where  a  most  singular  mystery  occurred. 
The  sentinels  were  constantly  found  missing,  leav- 
ing no  trace  behind  them,  not  even  firing  off  their 
guns  as  an  alarm. 

For  several  successive  days,  a  sentinel  was 
placed  at  this  post,  and  told  to  give  warning  of 
the  slightest  approach  of  danger.  When  the  time 
came  for  him  to  be  relieved,  there  was  no  sign  or 
trace  of  any  one  having  been  on  guard.  The  sen- 
tinel had  vanished,  leaving  the  entire  regiment 
more  mystified  than  ever. 

At  first,  many  of  the  soldiers  thought  the  sen- 
tinels had  deserted,  while  others  thought  the  In- 
dians were  guilty. 

At  last,  when  three  men  had  disappeared  in  suc- 
cession, —  men,  whose  patriotism  and  courage  were 
not  doubted,  —  the  soldiers  became  stricken  with 
superstitious  terror. 

''If  it  were  the  Indians,  our  men  would  have 
fired  off  their  guns,  or  fought  them,  or  run  back 
to  camp.  We  cannot  believe  they  deserted.  It 
may  be  the  devil  is  after  us,"  some  of  the  soldiers 
said.  None  of  them  wanted  to  be  assigned  to  the 
strange  post. 

At   last,   the   Colonel   declared,    "I   will   ask   no 


21-t  AMERICA  FIRST 


man  to  guard  that  post  against  his  will.  If  there 
is  any  one  here  who  is  not  afraid,  let  him  come 
with  me." 

Only  one  soldier  stepped  forward.  He  saluted 
the  Colonel  and  said,  "  I  will  not  be  taken  alive 
by  the  Indians.  I  am  not  a  deserter.  I  do  not 
believe  the  devil  has  anything  to  do  with  it.  You 
shall  hear  from  me  at  the  least  sound.  I  will  fire 
my  gun  if  a  crow  chatters  or  a  leaf  falls." 

They  went  to  the  mysterious  post,  and  the 
Colonel  left  him  standing  by  a  tree,  his  gun  in 
hand  and  his  eyes  watching  in  all  directions.  He 
was  a  brave  man,  but  he  could  hardly  keep  from 
feeling  a  sensation  of  dread,  wondering  what  was 
going  to  happen  to  him. 

For  an  hour  nothing  occurred.  At  every  rustle 
in  the  bush  the  soldier  raised  his  gun,  at  every 
falling  leaf  he  was  ready  to  fire.  He  took  no 
chances.  But,  as  time  wore  on,  he  began  to  think 
he  would  escape  undisturbed. 

At  length  he  saw,  not  far  away,  a  hog  feeding 
on  some  acorns.  There  were  plenty  of  hogs  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  especially  around  the  camp. 
He  had  seen  many  of  them  rooting  in  the  ground, 
and  had  often  heard  them  grunting  and  munching 
acorns.  This  hog  was  like  all  the  others,  and  he 
paid  no  attention  to  it. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  215 

In  a  few  minutes  the  hog  began  to  make  his 
way  back  of  the  sentinel  to  a  small  clump  of  bushes 
where  there  were  plenty  of  acorns.  He  grunted  and 
rooted  and  munched  as  he  went,  always  getting  a 
little  nearer  the  sentinel,  of  whom  he  seemed  to 
take  no  notice.  Still  the  soldier  thought  he  was 
just  a  big  hog,  and  kept  his  eyes  on  other  sights, 
his  ears  on  other  sounds. 

But,  as  the  hog  gained  the  clump  of  bushes 
back  of  the  post,  not  more  than  twenty  feet  away, 
the  sentinel  suddenly  turned,  and  thought  he  saw 
some  unusual  and  ungainly  movement  on  the  part 
of  the  animal. 

"I  may  as  well  kill  that  hog.  We  need  meat 
anyway,  and  if  the  camp  comes  running  it  will  do 
no  harm."  So  saying,  the  sentinel  raised  his  gun 
and  fired  at  the  animal  standing  sideways  towards 
him.  The  bullet  struck  him  full  in  the  side. 
\Miat  w^as  the  sentinel's  surprise  to  see  the  hog 
leap  into  the  air,  hear  a  dreadful  Indian  yell,  and 
then  to  see  a  painted  savage,  with  a  tomahawk  in 
his  hand,  fall  dead  at  his  feet. 

In  a  short  w^hile,  the  soldier's  comrades  arrived. 
He  show  ed  them  the  Indian  —  explanation  of  the 
mysterious  disappearance  of  the  other  sentinels. 
The  crafty  Indian,  acting  so  like  a  wild  hog  that 
no  one  could  fail  to  be  deceived,  had  gradually  ap- 


216  AMERICA   FIRST 


proached  the  sentinels,  and,  while  they  were  not 
looking,  had  tomahawked  them  and  borne  them 
away  before  they  could  cry  out  or  even  fire  off 
their  guns. 


HOAY  THE  NORTHWEST  WAS  WON 

It  was  the  evening  of  July  4,  1778,  and  a  merry 
dance  was  taking  place  at  Kaskaskia,  in  that  re- 
gion afterwards  known  as  the  state  of  Illinois.  It 
was  a  gay  party,  for  the  people  were  light-hearted 
and,  having  little  else  to  do,  were  passing  the 
time  in  dance.  All  the  village  girls  w^ere  there, 
and  most  of  the .  citizens  and  soldiers  as  well. 
They  were  dancing  aw^ay  at  a  happy  rate,  to  the 
music  of  a  fiddle,  played  by  a  man  who  sat  on  a 
chair.  An  Indian  lay  on  the  floor,  watching  them 
with  sleepy  eyes. 

Kaskaskia  was  a  British  fort,  but  most  of  the 
people  who  hved  there  were  French.  Though  the 
war  of  the  Revolution  was  going  on  in  the  East 
and  South,  the  inhabitants  of  this  wilderness  fort 
of  the  West  cared  little  for  a  conflict  that  was  being 
waged  a  thousand  miles  off.  They  thought  them- 
selves secure  from  attack,  for  surely  no  one  would 
attempt  to  travel  so  great  a  distance  for  so  small 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  217 

a  prize.  In  this,  they  were  much  mistaken,  how- 
ever, as  we  shall  see. 

As  the  dance  went  on,  a  tall  young  man  stepped 
into  the  room,  and  leaned  against  the  door,  watch- 
ing the  dancers.  He  was  dressed  as  a  backwoods- 
man, and  had  evidently  come  a  long  and  difficult 
way.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  not  French,  and 
that  he  was  a  soldier.  The  Indian  was  the  first  to 
see  him,  and  to  raise  the  alarm.  His  yell  broke 
up  the  dance,  and  every  one  gazed  upon  the  stranger 
with  fright.  The  women  screamed,  the  men  sprang 
for  their  guns.  The  stranger  raised  his  hand,  and 
said  very  quietly, 

"Do  not  be  alarmed.  I  shall  not  hurt  you.  Go 
on  with  your  dance.  But  remember,  you  are  danc- 
ing under  the  flag  of  Virginia,  and  not  under  the 
flag  of  England." 

As  he  uttered  these  w^ords,  a  crowd  of  Patriots, 
dressed  as  he  was,  stepped  into  the  room,  seized 
all  the  guns  of  the  soldiers,  and  thus  occupied  the 
fort.  The  young  man's  name  was  John  Rogers 
Clark.  The  fort  had  been  captured  without  a 
blow  or  a  shot. 

This  is  how  it  happened.  John  Rogers  Clark, 
who  had  been  living  for  some  time  in  Kentucky, 
saw  plainly  that  the  English  were  stirring  up  the 
Indians  of  the  West  for  an  attack  on  the  American 


218  A]VIERICA  FIRST 


settlements.  So  he  determined  to  put  a  stop  to 
it.  Besides,  he  wished  to  captm-e  the  western  forts 
for  his  own  country.  He  went  to  Virginia,  and 
asked  Patrick  Henry,  who  was  then  Governor, 

''  Give  me  permission  to  raise  a  body  of  soldiers, 
and  march  West  for  the  protection  of  Virginia  and 
Kentucky." 

Patrick  Henry  looked  into  the  brave  eyes  of 
the  young  man,  and  said,  "Go,  my  dear  sir,  raise 
your  companies,  and  I  w^ill  make  you  a  Colonel. 
You  will  do  this  for  the  defense  of  Virginia  and 
Kentucky." 

It  was  not  long  before  Clark  had  his  soldiers, 
and  was  on  his  way.  They  floated  down  the 
Ohio  River,  landed  fifty  miles  from  Kaskaskia, 
marched  through  the  woods,  and  entered,  as  we 
have  described,  the  open  and  undefended  fort. 

This  ends  the  first  part  of  the  story.  There  is  a 
second  part,  however,  not  so  easy  as  the  first. 
Far  to  the  South,  on  the  Wabash  River,  in  what 
is  now  Indiana,  stood  another  fort,  called  Vin- 
cennes,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away.  This 
was  also  a  French  fort,  held  for  the  British.  Colonel 
Clark  wanted  to  capture  Vincennes,  as  he  had  cap- 
tured Kaskaskia.  He  did  not  have  enough  men 
to  take  it  by  force.  So  he  sent  a  French  priest 
to  Vincennes  to  tell  the  people  that  the  Americans 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  219 

were  their  best  friends,  after  all,  and  to  advise 
them  to  haul  down  the  British  flag,  and  raise  the 
American  flag  in  its  place.  Otherwise,  Clark  and 
his  men  would  be  down  on  them  in  short  order. 

The  French  agreed  to  do  as  they  were  ordered, 
and  Vincennes  became,  for  the  time  being,  an 
American  fort.  Thereupon,  Clark  and  his  men 
went  back  to  Kentucky,  much  pleased  with  the 
success  of  their  expedition. 

But  the  British  were  not  to  be  dispossessed  of 
their  territory  so  easily.  The  British  Commander 
at  Detroit,  Colonel  Hamilton,  marched  down  to 
Vincennes,  took  the  fort  back  again,  and  threatened 
to  march  upon  Kaskaskia  and  then  even  into  Ken- 
tucky. T\Tien  Clark  heard  of  this,  he  resolved  to 
go  at  once  to  Vincennes,  recapture  the  place,  and 
hold  it! 

It  was  a  terrible  task,  for  winter  was  at  hand. 
The  Wabash  River  had  overflowed  its  banks  and, 
for  hundreds  of  square  miles,  the  country  was 
under  water.  Vincennes  was  in  the  center  of  a 
vast  shallow  lake,  or  swamp,  of  freezing  water. 
Hamilton  thought  himself  safe  until  the  spring, 
anyhow. 

Clark  set  out  with  his  men,  dressed  in  hunting 
shirts,  with  fur  caps  on  their  heads,  which  were 
ornamented  with  deer  or  raccoon  tails,  and  carry- 


220  AMERICA  FIRST 


ing  long  rifles.  Then  came  cold  days  and  steady 
rains.  Every  night  they  had  to  build  fires  to 
warm  by,  and  to  dry  their  clothes.  They  trudged 
on  through  the  cold  water,  glad  of  any  little  island 
to  rest  upon  or  any  dry  place  to  sleep.  Sometimes 
the  water  was  ankle-deep,  then  knee-deep,  and 
then  waist-deep.  Still,  they  went  on,  knowing 
they  must  plunge  ahead  or  go  back. 

At  last,  they  came  within  four  miles  of  the  fort. 
The  water  was  waist-deep  and  very  cold.  ''Wade 
in,"  cried  Clark,  "and  follow  me!"  Seizing  a 
drummer-boy,  he  placed  him  on  his  shoulders  and 
told  him  to  beat  his  drum.  Then  the  brave  leader 
plunged  into  the  ice-cold  water.  AYith  a  shout, 
the  men  followed  him.  After  a  few  hours'  hard 
riding,  they  crossed  the  flood,  and  were  before  the 
fort  of  Yincennes. 

Colonel  Hamilton  was  amazed  w^hen  he  saw 
Clark  and  his  men  at  his  very  door.  "They  are 
mad,  or  else  they  had  wings  to  cross  at  such  a 
time,"  he  said.  But  he  resolved  to  defend  his  fort, 
and  the  fight  began. 

For  hours  the  Kentucky  and  Virginia  riflemen, 
with  their  unerring  aim,  poured  shot  into  the  loop- 
holes of  the  fort.  They  were  deadly  riflemen,  and 
every  shot  told.  At  the  end  of  the  day,  Hamilton 
surrendered,    and   the   flag   of   England   was    again 


9  Wtw 


Wade  in,"  cried  Clark,    and  follow  me!' 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY 


hauled  down.  In  this  way  did  all  that  great 
Northwest  Territory  pass  into  possession  of  the 
Americans.  Out  of  it  the  great  states  of  Ohio,  In- 
diana, Illinois,  Michigan,  Wisconsin,  and  part  of 
Minnesota  were  afterwards  formed. 


BENJAMIN  FRANEXIN 

Benjamin  Franklin  w^as  the  youngest  member  of 
a  family  of  seventeen  children.  His  father  was  a 
poor  man,  who  made  his  living  by  boiling  soap 
and  making  candles.  He  went  to  school  barely 
two  years,  though  all  his  life  he  was  a  hard  stu- 
dent. There  was  never  a  boy  more  fond  of  books 
than  he;  he  borrowed  them  from  anybody  who 
would  lend  them  to  him,  and,  oftentimes,  sat  up 
all  night  reading.  In  this  way,  he  became  one  of 
the  most  learned  men  in  the  country. 

He  began  life  by  working  for  his  brother  in  a 
printing  office,  where  he  soon  became  an  expert 
t;^^e-setter.  He  read  all  the  articles  printed  in  his 
brother's  paper,  and  decided  he  could  write  better 
ones.  He  slipped  his  own  articles  under  the  door 
of  the  printing  office,  without  signing  them.  His 
brother  was  so  pleased  with  them  that  he  printed 
every    one.     One    day,    he    said,    "Ben,    whoever 


222  AJNIERICA   FIRST 


writes  these  articles  has  plenty  of  sense.  I  wish  I 
knew  who  he  was."  But  Franklin  never  told  his 
secret. 

After  a  while,  Franklin  and  his  brother  had  a 
quarrel,  and  they  separated.  Franklin  tried  to 
get  work  in  Boston,  but  was  refused  everywhere, 
because  his  brother  had  sent  the  printers  word 
not  to  hire  him.  Then  he  went  to  New  York, 
but  with  no  better  success.  Finally,  he  made  his 
way  to  Philadelphia  in  search  of  his  fortune. 

He  arrived  with  only  a  few  pennies  to  his  name, 
his  clothing  rumpled  and  soiled,  and  his  pockets 
stuffed  with  his  extra  stockings  and  shirt.  It  was 
a  most  unpromising  beginning  for  a  great  career. 
Many  people  turned  in  the  street  to  look  at  him, 
for  he  was  an  awkward  country  boy. 

Being  hungry,  he  went  into  a  baker's  shop, 
and  bought  several  rolls.  He  held  them  in  his 
hands,  and  went  along  the  street,  munching  one 
after  another.  A  young  girl,  standing  in  the  door- 
way of  her  home,  laughed  at  him  as  he  passed  by, 
for  he  was  indeed  a  comical  sight.  Her  name  was 
Deborah  Reed.  Years  afterwards,  she  became  the 
wife  of  this  poor  boy. 

After  several  years  of  hard  w^ork  in  printing 
offices,  and  wandering  back  to  Boston  and  even 
once  to  London,  Frankhn  finally  settled  down  in 


STORIES  OF  OUR   OWN   HISTORY  223 


Philadelphia,  in  business  for  himself.  He  began 
printing  a  newspaper,  which  was  the  brightest 
journal  in  x\meriea.  He  also  published  a  book 
each  year,  called  'Toor  Richard's  Almanac,"  full 
of  wise  and  witty  sayings,  as  well  as  containing 
useful  information. 

Franklin  was  one  of  the  most  practical  men  of 
his  day.  He  had  many  good  ideas  for  the  public 
welfare.  He  established  a  pubhc  library  in  Phila- 
delphia. He  invented  the  open  Franklin  stove, 
which  stored  up  much  of  the  heat  that  once  was 
wasted*  up  the  chimney.  He  suggested  paving  the 
streets,  in  order  to  save  the  wear  and  tear  on 
vehicles,  and  to  gain  more  speed  in  going  about. 
He  also  proposed  lighting  the  streets  with  lamps 
at  night  in  order  to  help  belated  citizens  find 
their  way  home. 

Every  one  has  seen  the  flash  of  hghtning  and 
heard  the  roar  of  thunder.  For  a  long  time, 
people  did  not  know  that  the  lightning  in  the  sky 
and  the  electricity  made  by  an  electric  machine 
were  the  same  thing.  And  nobody  could  think  of 
a  way  to  find  out,  until  Benjamin  Franklin  under- 
took the  problem. 

After  studying  the  electric  machine,  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  lightning  and  electricity  were 
the  same  in  nature.     To  test  it,  he  made  a  large 


224  AMERICA   FIRST 


kite  of  silk,  tying  the  string  to  the  metal  frame. 
The  part  of  the  string  near  his  hand  was  tied  to 
a  silk  ribbon,  and  a  metal  key  was  fastened  just 
above  the  ribbon.  The  silk  was  used  to  keep  the 
electricity  from  passing  into  Frankhn's  body. 

Franklin  supposed  that  the  electricity  would 
come  down  the  wet  kite  string  when  it  rained 
during  a  thunder-storm,  and  would  collect  on  the 
key.  He  calculated  that  it  could  not  reach  him 
because  of  the  ribbon  in  his  hand.  Silk,  he  knew, 
was  a  non-conductor  of  electricity.  He  waited  for 
a  rainy  night  when  the  lightning  was  flashirig.  He 
did  not  wish  to  be  bothered  by  people  watching 
him  in  the  daytime.  The  kite  shot  up  in  the  air, 
and  soon  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  darkness.  Frank- 
lin let  out  the  string  as  far  as  it  would  go,  so  as 
to  be  sure  the  kite  was  well  up  in  the  clouds.  He 
held  on  to  the  silk  ribbon,  and  stood  under  a  shed 
so  as  to  keep  off  the  rain.  He  had  a  lamp  with 
him  to  w^atch  the  kite  string  and  the  key. 

The  lightning  flashed,  the  rain  came  down,  the 
string  was  wet,  and  the  kite  was  pulling  hard  in 
the  strong  wind.  Franklin  held  on  to  the  silk  rib- 
bon with  one  hand,  and  carefully  put  out  his  other 
hand  to  touch  the  key  at  the  end  of  the  string 
beyond  the  ribbon.  Instantly,  he  felt  a  shock 
that  almost  knocked  him  down.      He  tried  it  sev- 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  225 

era!  times,  until  he  was  afraid  to  do  so  again. 
He  then  knew  that  he  had  drawn  the  hghtning 
from  the  clouds,  and  had  proved  it  to  be  the 
same  as  the  electricity  made  by  the  electric 
machine. 

One  day,  he  had  his  kite  in  the  air,  and  was 
trying  various  experiments  with  the  electricity  on 
the  string,  when  he  thought  he  would  see  what 
effect  it  would  have  on  a  turkey.  He  walked  care- 
fully around,  following  the  turkey,  but  could  not 
get  sufficiently  close  to  the  bird  for  the  string  to 
touch  it.  x\t  last  he  came  near  enough,  as  he 
thought,  but,  just  as  he  reached  over  to  bring  the 
string  to  the  turkey's  head,  his  own  hand  touched 
the  key,  and,  before  he  knew  what  had  happened, 
he  was  knocked  down  and  nearly  stunned. 

When  he  recovered  from  his  surprise  and  shock, 
he  said,  ''Instead  of  killing  a  turkey,  I  came  near 
killing  a  goose." 

It  was  Franklin's  experiments  with  his  kite  that 
led  him  to  invent  the  lightning-rod  which  protects 
our  homes  during  a  thunder-storm. 

Franklin  became  one  of  our  greatest  American 
statesman,  noted  for  his  wisdom  and  learning.  He 
was  sent  abroad  to  gain  the  friendship  of  France 
m  the  War  of  the  Revolution.  When  he  appeared 
at  Court,  dressed  in  his  plain,  old-fashioned  way. 


226  AMERICA  FIRST 


with  his  long,  gi'ay  coat,  big  spectacles,  and  fur 
cap,  he  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention.  The 
people  soon  learned  to  admire  his  humor  and  good 
sense,  and  everywhere  he  was  greeted  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

After  the  Revolution,  he  helped  form  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  though  he  w^as  over 
eighty  years  of  age  at  the  time.  TMien  he  died, 
four  years  afterwards,  it  was  said  that  twenty 
thousand  people  attended  his  funeral. 


NOLICHUCKY  JACK 

John  Sevier  rode  over  the  mountains  from  Vir- 
ginia to  see  what  kind  of  home  he  could  find  in 
the  new  settlements  for  himself  and  his  family. 
Alone  through  woods  and  across  the  steep  moun- 
tains he  made  the  journey.  At  last,  he  found  the 
very  place  his  adventurous  spirit  liked,  and  there 
he  brought  his  wife  and  children  to  join  the  settlers 
on  the  Watauga  River,  in  what  is  now  the  State 
of  Tennessee. 

Life  was  rough  in  this  pioneer  settlement.  James 
Robertson  commanded  the  fort,  and  John  Sevier, 
after  a  while,  became  his  Lieutenant.  Close  by, 
clustered  the  cabins  of  the  settlers,  with  their  gar- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   fflSTORY  227 

dens  and  fields  of  corn.  The  soil  was  fertile,  the 
woods  were  full  of  game,  the  rivers  had  fish  in 
abundance,  and  the  Indians,  at  first,  were  friendly. 
All  went  well  with  the  Watauga  settlement  until 
the  Revolution. 

Then  the  British  began  to  arm  the  Indians  with 
guns,  and  to  reward  them  for  bringing  in  scalps 
and  captives.  The  peace  of  the  little  frontier 
settlement  was  disturbed,  and  it  looked  as  if  the 
savages  intended  to  make  a  general  attack  upon 
these  pioneers. 

One  day  the  cry  went  through  the  village, 
"Indians!  Indians!  They  are  on  the  war  path. 
Everybody  to  the  fort!" 

The  men  and  women  hastily  gathered  behind  the 
barred  gate,  and  prepared  for  defense.  There  were 
forty  or  fifty  resolute  men,  well  armed  and  on 
their  guard.  They  were  not  altogether  unpre- 
pared, for  a  friendly  squaw  had  already  warned 
them  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  danger. 

In  the  early  dawn,  the  savages  crept  out  of  the 
forest,  and  stole  up  to  the  fort.  But  the  settlers 
had  kept  watch  during  the  night,  and  were  not 
to  be  surprised.  WTien  the  Indians  were  within 
reach  of  the  guns,  through  the  loopholes  a  deadly 
fire  was  opened  on  them,  and  many  were  killed  as 
they   tried   to  pass   the   open   ground.     Then   they 


228  A^IERICA  FIRST 


escaped  back  into  the  woods,  glad  to  be  out  of 
reach  of  the  aim  of  the  Colonists. 

The  stockade  was  too  strong  to  be  taken  by 
assault,  so  the  savages  decided  to  starve  the 
settlers  out.  Three  weeks  passed,  with  the  painted 
warriors  lurking  in  the  woods,  outside  of  danger, 
but  ready  to  descend  on  any  one  who  dared  leave 
the  protection  of  the  fort.  Food  ran  short  and 
rations  were  reduced  to  parched  corn  —  all  they 
had. 

The  Colonists  became  very  tired  of  confinement. 
Sometimes  the  savages  would  disappear  for  hours 
at  a  time,  and  then  they  would  return  and  fill  the 
air  with  hideous  sounds.  The  settlers  grew  weary 
of  inaction,  and,  from  time  to  time,  some  one  would 
venture  forth,  heedless  of  warning.  In  this  way 
three  or  four  men  were  shot  by  the  Indians,  and 
one  boy  was  carried  off  and  burned  at  the  stake. 
One  woman  was  also  captured. 

The  water  in  the  fort  was  giving  out.  So  one 
of  the  young  women,  named  Kate  Sherrill,  took  a 
pitcher  and  went  to  the  river  to  fill  it  with  water. 
No  Indians  had  been  seen  for  several  hours,  and 
she  thought  she  was  safe.  She  was  a  tall,  graceful, 
and  beautiful  girl,  and  very  courageous.  After  she 
had  gone  some  distance  from  the  fort,  several  sav- 
ages sprang  out  of  the  forest  and  dashed  toward  her. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  239 

She  knew  her  danger  was  great,  and  turned 
swiftly  to  flee  for  safety.  She  was  a  good  runner, 
and  her  hfe  was  at  stake.  On  came  the  blood- 
thirsty savages,  with  tomahawks  uplifted  ready 
to  strike.  On  sped  the  brave  girl,  swift  as  a  deer. 
Those  in  the  fort  cried  out  in  terror,  "Run  to  the 
palisade!  Never  mind  the  gate!  We  will  pull  you 
over!" 

Guns  were  leveled  at  the  pursuing  foe;  but  they 
escaped  the  flying  bullets.  The  cries  of  the  men 
at  the  fort  did  not  stop  them;  they  sped  all  the 
faster  after  the  flying  feet  of  the  girl. 

At  last  she  reached  the  palisade,  as  the  nearest 
Indian  was  ten  feet  away.  She  made  one  desperate 
leap,  caught  the  top  pickets  with  her  hands,  and 
w^as  pulled  over  the  top  just  as  a  bullet  killed  her 
pursuer  in  his  tracks.  The  other  Indians  sullenly 
returned  to  the  forest. 

As  Kate  Sherrill  fell  over  the  pickets,  completely 
exhausted,  she  landed  in  the  arms  of  John  Sevier. 

The  end  of  the  story  is  that  John  Sevier,  whose 
w^ife  had  died  some  time  before,  fell  in  love  with 
the  beautiful  girl  whom  he  had  saved  by  his  lucky 
shot,  and  persuaded  her  to  marry  him. 

The  Indians  gave  up  the  siege  after  a  while,  and 
returned  to  their  villages.  This  left  the  Watauga 
settlement  in  peace  for  a  time,   but  the  friendly 


230  AMERICA  FIRST 


relations  between  the  Indians  and  the  white  men 
were  not  restored  for  several  years.  John  Sevier 
was  constantly  leading  war  parties  against  the  ma- 
rauding savages.  It  is  said  that  he  fought  thirty- 
five  battles,  and  was  known  as  the  greatest  Indian 
fighter  in  the  southwest. 

Sevier  became  the  leading  man  of  the  Colony. 
He  lived  in  a  big,  rambling,  one-story  house,  on 
Nolichucky  Creek.  It  consisted  of  two  separate 
wdngs,  connected  by  a  covered  porch.  In  one  part 
he  lived  with  his  family;  the  other  part  was  given 
up  to  his  guests.  He  kept  open  house  for  every- 
body. 

Here,  to  all  comers,  his  hospitahty  was  abun- 
dant. Rarely  was  he  without  friends  who  sat 
around  his  plentiful  table,  gathered  by  the  big 
open  fires  in  the  winter,  or  on  the  wide  porch  in 
the  summer,  and  talked  over  the  battles  with  the 
Indians,  and  the  coming  of  new  settlers  into  the 
country. 

At  weddings,  or  on  other  great  occasions,  Sevier 
was  accustomed  to  gather  all  the  people  of  the 
community  together,  and  to  feast  them  at  a  great 
barbecue,  in  which  an  ox  was  roasted  whole  over 
a  fire,  and  basted  with  the  richest  sauce.  The 
board  tables  were  loaded  with  forest  game  and 
field  produce,  and  the  people  drank  cider. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  231 

In  this  way,  Sevier  became  greatly  loved  by 
everybody.  He  was  known  far  and  wide  as  Noli- 
chucky  Jack.  His  wife  retained  her  beauty  and 
grace,  and  was  called  ''Bonnie  Kate."  Even  the 
Indians  grew  to  like  the  stern  old  fighter,  for  he 
was  always  fair  with  them,  though  at  times  he 
punished  them  severely. 

Everywhere  in  Tennessee,  he  was  the  idol  of  the 
people.  When  word  came  that  "Chucky  Jack" 
was  in  town,  crowds  went  out  to  meet  him  and 
shake  his  hand.  Wlien  Tennessee  became  a  state, 
he  was  elected  the  first  Governor,  and  kept  that 
ofiice  for  twelve  years. 

When  he  w^as  eighty  years  old,  he  headed  a 
party  of  surveyors  to  mark  the  boundary  line 
between  the. State  of  Georgia  and  the  Indian  lands 
of  Tennessee.  The  labor  was  too  great  for  his 
worn  body,  and  he  died  in  his  tent,  surrounded 
by  a  few  soldiers  and  Indians. 

To  this  day,  the  people  of  Tennessee  tell  to 
their  children  the  story  of  how  NoHchucky  Jack 
fought  the  Indians  and  the  British,  and  how  he 
helped  build  up  their  great  State. 


232  AINIERICA  FIRST 


ELI  WHITNEY  INVENTS  THE 
COTTON  GIN 

When  we  read  about  the  milhons  of  bales  of 
white  cotton  raised  in  the  South  every  year,  it  is 
hard  to  beheve  that  cotton  itself  was  considered 
only  a  garden  plant  until  after  the  Revolution.  A 
plantation  of  thirty  acres  of  cotton  near  Savannah 
yielded  what  was  then  a  very  large  crop.  Just 
after  the  war  with  Great  Britain,  eight  bags  of 
cotton  w^ere  shipped  to  England,  and  were  seized 
by  the  Custom  House  officials,  on  the  ground  that 
so  much  cotton  could  not  be  raised  in  the  United 
States. 

The  cotton  which  grows  in  the  uplands  of  the 
South  is  known  as  short  staple  cotton,  and  its  lint 
adheres  very  closely  to  the  seed.  At  first  this  lint 
had  to  be  picked  off  by  hand,  which  was  a  slow 
process.  A  man  and  his  family  could  hardly  clean 
more  than  eight  or  ten  pounds  a  day.  In  case  of 
a  large  crop,  there  were  not  hands  enough  to  sepa- 
rate the  lint  from  the  seed.  Therefore,  cotton  was 
not  profitable,  and,  in  consequence,  not  much  of 
it  was  raised.  In  the  year  1791,  only  three  hun- 
dred and  ninety-one  bales  were  exported  from  the 
United  States. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  233 

In  1792,  a  young  man,  named  Eli  Whitney,  was 
living  in  Georgia,  at  the  home  of  ]\Irs.  Nathanael 
Greene,  a  few  miles  from  Savannah.  He  was  born 
in  Massachusetts,  and  had  just  graduated  from 
Yale  College.  He  had  come  to  Savannah  to  prac- 
tice law,  and  to  eke  out  his  income  by  teaching 
school.  Mrs.  Greene  had  invited  him  to  live  at 
her  plantation,  and  to  help  her  with  the  education 
of  her  children. 

\Miitney  had  always  show^n  a  certain  skill  in 
making  useful  articles,  and  in  mending  broken 
things.  Nothing  was  needed  around  the  Greene 
house  or  farm  that  Whitney  could  not  make ;  nothing 
that  he  could  not  fix.  Mrs.  Greene  said  to  him  one 
day,  "Mr.  Whitney,  I  believe  you  can  make  anything. 
Sooner  or  later,  you  will  hit  upon  a  fortune." 

One  day  some  visitors  expressed  their  regret 
that  it  was  such  a  hard  matter  to  clean  the  upland 
cotton;  they  said  it  was  a  pity  there  was  not  a 
machine  for  that  purpose. 

Mrs.  Greene  replied,  ''There  is  a  young  man 
here  who  can  make  anything.  His  name  is  EU 
WTiitney.  I  believe  he  could  invent  a  machine 
for  cleaning  cotton." 

Whitney  was  sent  for,  and  hstened  to  stories  of 
the  trouble  the  Southern  farmers  were  having  with 
the  cotton  seed.     He  had  never  seen  any  cotton 


234  AMERICA  FIRST 


up  to  that  time,  but  he  cheerfully  undertook  to 
work  up  some  scheme.  He  watched  the  seed- 
pickers,  and  brought  some  of  the  ripe  cotton-bolls 
to  his  room,  where  he  began  to  pick  out  the  seed 
himself.  He  soon  thought  of  a  plan  for  a  machine, 
and  set  to  work  building  it.  It  was  a  hard  task, 
for  he  had  to  make  his  own  tools,  wire,  and  nails. 

A^Tiitney  toiled  for  several  months  on  his  inven- 
tion, and  at  last  had  ready  for  its  trial  test  his 
cotton  engine,  or  cotton-gin,  as  it  is  called  for 
short.  It  was  a  simple  device,  consisting  of  a  re- 
volving cylinder,  covered  with  short  teeth  that 
passed  through  a  stationary  comb.  The  teeth 
caught  the  lint,  and  dragged  it  through  the  comb, 
leaving  the  seed  behind.  It  was  very  crude,  but 
even  this  first  gin  could  do  more  work  than  twenty 
men.  All  the  machines  made  since  that  day  have 
adhered  to  the  same  idea,  though  the  modern  ones 
are  a  great  improvement  on  the  ones  first  made. 

Mrs.  Greene  and  another  friend  were  the  only 
ones  allowed  to  see  Whitney's  first  gin.  They 
were  so  delighted  when  they  witnessed  how  fast 
this  little  hand-turning  machine  could  clean  the 
seed,  that  they  could  not  keep  the  secret.  Others 
soon  heard  of  it,  and  one  night  Whitney's  shop 
was  broken  open,  and  his  model  machine  was  stolen 
and  carried  away. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  235 


This  was  a  great  blow  to  Whitney,  for,  before 
he  could  make  a  new  one,  and  get  it  patented, 
other  machines,  based  on  his  invention,  were  in 
operation.  In  after  years,  this  gave  him  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  and,  in  fact,  kept  him  from  mak- 
ing a  fortune  out  of  his  gin. 

A  patent  was  secured  for  the  Whitney  cotton- 
gin  in  1794.  Soon,  others  began  to  claim  that 
they  had  made  gins  before  Whitney's  appeared. 
Many  lawsuits  began  to  dispute  Whitney's  rights, 
and  the  juries  did  not  give  the  poor  inventor  much 
satisfaction.  In  fact,  he  spent  much  money,  with 
little  benefit  to  himself. 

At  any  rate,  the  world  knows  that  Whitney  in- 
vented the  cotton-gin.  As  soon  as  gins  could  be 
bought,  the  farmers  began  to  plant  cotton  plenti- 
fully. By  using  the  gin,  they  could  clean  a  thou- 
sand pounds  a  day,  instead  of  only  eight  or  ten 
pounds,  as  before.  Everybody  planted  cotton,  land 
w^as  cleared  for  cultivation,  slaves  were  bought  to 
raise  the  crop,  machinery  was  made  to  help  the 
farmer,  and  a  great  industry  was  opened  to  the 
people  of  the  South,  through  the  genius  of  this 
young  man.  He  had  studied  the  needs  of  the  situ- 
ation, and  had  apphed  his  good  sense  to  solving 
the  difficulties. 


236  AMERICA  FIRST 


THOIVIAS  JEFFERSON 

Thomas  Jefferson  was  born  near  Charlottesville, 
Virginia,  April  13,  1743.  His  father  was  a  sturdy 
backwoods  surveyor,  of  giant  size  and  strength, 
whom  his  son  always  remembered  with  pride  and 
veneration.  His  mother  belonged  to  one  of  the 
prominent  families  of  Virginia,  and  from  her  young 
Jefferson  inherited  his  love  for  nature,  music,  and 
books. 

Jefferson's  father  owTied  a  farm  of  nearly  two 
thousand  acres,  on  which  he  had  thirty  slaves; 
he  raised  large  crops  of  wheat  and  tobacco.  He 
was  a  stern,  though  kind,  just,  and  generous  man. 
He  often  said  to  his  son,  "Never  ask  another  to 
do  for  you  what  you  can  do  for  yourself."  He 
died  when  Thomas  was  fourteen  years  of  age. 

From  early  childhood,  Jefferson  was  a  bright 
boy.  He  had  his  mother's  gentle  and  thoughtful 
disposition,  and,  by  nature,  took  readily  to  read- 
ing. His  love  of  outdoor  sports  saved  him  from 
overstudy.  He  became  a  keen  hunter,  was  a  dead 
shot  with  a  rifle,  a  fine  dancer,  and  rode  a  horse 
with  great  skill. 

He     entered     WilHam     and     Mary     College,     at 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  237 

Williamsburg,  the  capital  of  Virginia,  when  he  was 
seventeen  years  of  age.  The  college  stood  at  one 
end  of  the  main  street,  the  old  capitol  at  the 
other.  On  the  same  street  there  was  situated  an 
inn,  know^n  as  Raleigh  Tavern,  in  which  w^as  a 
room  called  "The  Apollo,"  used  as  a  dancing-hall. 
Here  Jefferson  was  one  of  the  leaders.  He  was 
described  as  a  tall,  thin  young  student,  'Svith  red 
hair,  a  freckled  face,  and  pointed  features,"  whom 
everybody  liked,  and  who  was  brilliant  at  the 
college. 

After  graduating,  he  began  to  study  law.  When 
he  became  twenty-one  years  of  age,  he  celebrated 
the  event  by  planting  an  avenue  of  trees  near  his 
home.  Some  of  those  trees  are  still  standing,  a 
memorial  to  his  love  of  nature  and  his  desire  to 
make  things  beautiful. 

Among  the  friends  of  Jefferson,  at  this  time, 
was  a  jovial  young  fellow,  noted  for  his  "mimicry, 
practical  jokes,  and  dancing."  Nobody  thought 
he  amounted  to  much,  for  he  was  most  always 
frolicking.  He  and  Jefferson  became  bosom  friends, 
and  spent  much  of  their  time  together.  They  saw 
in  each  other  qualities  of  mind  of  which  the  world 
did  not  yet  know. 

One  day,  while  Jefferson  was  standing  at  the 
door   of  the   capitol,   a   member   of  the   House  of 


238  AMERICA  FIRST 


Burgesses  was  delivering  a  most  eloquent  address. 
Everybody  was  amazed  at  the  wonderful  oratory 
of  the  man.  Jefferson  recognized  him  as  his  friend, 
Patrick  Henry,  who  was  making  his  famous  speech 
against  the  Stamp  Act. 

Jefferson  never  forgot  the  scene.  The  sublime 
words  that  poured  from  Henry's  lips  took  his 
breath  away,  and  he  listened  as  one  enraptured. 
He  resolved,  from  that  moment,  that  he  too  would 
serve  his  country,  and  at  once  redoubled  his  stu- 
dious habits,  often  spending  as  long  as  fifteen  hours 
a  day  over  his  books.  The  result  was,  Jefferson 
became  one  of  the  most  accomplished  scholars  in 
America.  He  was  a  brilliant  mathematician,  and 
knew  five  languages  besides  his  own. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-four,  Jefferson  began  to 
practice  law.  His  voice  was  not  strong,  and  he 
was  never  a  good  speaker.  His  manner  was  hesin 
tating  and  embarrassed,  and  his  ideas  did  not  find 
easy  expression  in  spoken  words.  But  he  was  a 
great  writer  and  thinker,  and,  in  a  few  years,  he 
was  known  as  the  best  lawyer  in  Virginia. 

Jefferson  was  also  a  farmer.  He  loved  to  look 
over  his  broad  fields  and  to  attend  to  his  growing 
crops.  He  once  said,  "No  occupation  is  so  delight- 
ful to  me  as  the  culture  of  the  earth,  and  no  cul- 
ture comparable  to  that  of  a  garden." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  239 

He  delighted  in  experimenting  with  new  things, 
and  imported  a  large  number  of  trees  and  shrubs 
to  beautify  the  grounds  of  his  home  which  he 
named  "Monticello."  He  was  as  proud  of  being 
a  successful  farmer  as  he  was  of  being  a  great 
la^vyer. 

Jefferson  wrote  the  rules  which  he  considered 
essential  for  a  practical  person  to  follow: 

1.  Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  you  can 

do  to-day. 

2.  Never  trouble  another  for  what  you  can  do 

yourself. 

3.  Never  spend  your  money  before  you  have  it. 

4.  Never  buy  what  you  do  not  want  because 

it  is  cheap. 

5.  Pride  costs  us  more  than  hunger,  thirst,  or 

cold. 

6.  We  never  repent  of  having  eaten  too  little. 

7.  Nothing  is  troublesome  that  we  do  willingly. 

8.  How  much  pain  we  have  suffered  from  the 

evils  that  never  happened. 

9.  Take  things  always  by  their  smooth  handle. 
10.    \Mien  angry  count  ten  before  you  speak:    if 

very  angry  count  a  hundred. 
His  manners  were  plain  and  simple.     WTien  he 
was   President   of   the   United   States,   he   did   not 
stand  aloof  from  the  people,  as  other  great  men  of 


240  AMERICA  FIRST 


the  day  did,  but  he  encouraged  everybody  to  be 
on  famihar  terms  with  him.  He  did  not  have  the 
splendid  parties  and  balls  at  the  ^Miite  House  that 
other  Presidents  had,  but  hved  quietly  and  with- 
out much  display. 

JefiFerson's  great  fame  lies  in  the  fact  that  he 
wrote  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  He  was 
then  thirty-three  years  of  age,  and  one  of  the 
youngest  members  of  the  Continental  Congress.  It 
is  among  the  greatest  of  our  national  documents. 
He  secured  legislation  in  Virginia,  exempting  taxa- 
tion for  the  support  of  any  church,  and  was  the 
founder  of  the  University  of  Virginia. 

At  ''Monticello,"  he  entertained  w^ith  lavish  hos- 
pitality, sometimes  having  as  many  as  fifty  guests 
in  his  house  at  one  time.  Some  of  these  visitors 
stayed  for  months,  imposing  on  his  hospitality, 
with  the  result  that  in  his  old  age  he  was  much 
reduced  in  his  circumstances. 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  PHILADELPHIA 

For  many  years  the  Moors,  in  Africa,  were 
pirates,  and  preyed  upon  vessels  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean. The  weaker  nations  of  Europe  agreed  to 
pay   tribute   annually,   if   these   pirates   would   not 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  241 

molest  them  on  the  seas.  Those  nations  that  did 
not  pay  suffered  dreadfully  in  consequence.  The 
United  States  paid  tribute  for  a  while,  but  grew 
tired  of  it,  and  declared  war  against  Tripoli,  the 
boldest  of  these  piratical  countries. 

During  the  war  w^hich  followed,  an  American 
vessel,  named  the  Philadelj)hia,  while  pursuing  an 
enemy  craft,  ran  aground  on  a  reef,  and  was  cap- 
tured by  the  Tripolitans,  who  floated  her  and  re- 
fitted her  for  service  in  their  own  navy.  She  lay 
in  the  harbor,  a  beautiful  and  tantalizing  sight  to 
the  American  vessels  just  outside  the  range  of  the 
guns  of  the  fort  that  protected  her. 

Lieutenant  Stephen  Decatur  volunteered  to  cap- 
ture or  destroy  the  Philadelphia,  with  the  aid  of  a 
recently  captured  vessel,  called  a  "ketch,"  which 
was  named  the  Mastico,  but  had  been  rechristened 
the  Intrepid.  He  had  a  crew  of  seventy-six  men, 
and  one  night  in  July,  1804,  he  slowly  drifted  into 
the  harbor  of  Tripoli  on  his  perilous  adventure. 

The  ketch,  which  w^as  innocent  enough  as  it 
made  its  way  slowly  along,  looked  like  a  belated 
coaster  making  its  way  into  the  harbor.  All  the 
men,  except  about  a  dozen  sailors,  were  lying  on 
the  decks,  hidden  from  view.  The  moon  had  set, 
and  the  lights  of  the  town  gave  a  dim  outline  to  the 
big  ship  toward  which  they  were  purposely  drifting. 


242  AMERICA  FIRST 


At  last,  the  gliding  ketch  came  close  to  the 
Philadelphia,  upon  whose  decks  soldiers  and  sailors 
were  plainly  visible.  An  officer  aboard  hailed  the 
ketch  in  the  Tripohtan  tongue,  and  inquired, 

*'\Miat  vessel  is  that,  and  where  are  you  from?" 

"This  is  the  Mastico,  from  Malta,"  was  the  reply 
in  the  same  language. 

"Be  careful  or  you  will  run  afoul  of  us,"  was 
the  warning. 

To  this  the  ketch  rephed,  "We  have  lost  our 
anchors  in  a  gale,  and  should  like  to  tie  up  to 
you  for  the  night." 

The  Tripolitan  agreed  to  this,  not  suspecting  for 
a  moment  that  the  ketch  was  otherwise  than  rep- 
resented. The  Moorish  soldiers  looked  on  lazily, 
and  with  idle  curiosity.  As  the  ketch  came  down, 
a  boat  was  lowered  with  a  line  that  soon  was 
made  fast  to  the  forechains  of  the  frigate.  An- 
other boat  from  the  frigate  was  lowered  to  take  a 
line  from  the  stem  of  the  ketch.  Thus  it  was  pro- 
posed to  tie  the  two  boats  together. 

^^^len  all  was  made  fast,  the  American  sailors 
slowly  drew  the  ketch  closer  and  closer  to  the  side 
of  the  frigate.  Suddenly,  the  officers  of  the  frig- 
ate, seeing  the  anchors  of  the  ketch  still  aboard, 
took  alarm  and  cried  aloud  to  cut  her  loose.  It 
was  too  late.     In  a  moment,  grapphng  irons  had 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  243 

fastened  the  two  boats,  and  all  the  men  aboard 
the  ketch  were  swarming  with  drawn  swords  over 
the  side  of  the  frigate. 

It  was  short  work  to  disperse  the  crew  of  the 
frigate,  most  of  whom  leaped  into  the  water  and 
began  swimming  for  the  shore.  In  ten  minutes, 
the  Philadelphia  was  again  in  the  hands  of  her 
former  owners,  and  not  a  Moor  was  left  on  board 
alive. 

There  was  no  chance  to  carry  the  vessel  off, 
since  her  sails  were  not  set,  and  there  was  almost 
no  wind.  Besides,  it  would  be  only  a  few  minutes 
before  the  swimmers  would  reach  the  shore  and 
give  the  alarm.  Therefore,  Decatur  determined  to 
set  fire  to  the  frigate,  and  to  escape  before  armed 
boats  could  come  to  the  rescue  and  defeat  his 
purpose. 

It  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  spread  fire  from 
the  hold  to  other  places  of  the  dry  ship.  The  men 
barely  had  time  to  escape  from  the  decks  before 
vast  volumes  of  smoke  were  issuing  from  the  port 
holes,  and  the  Philadelphia  w^as  doomed.  The  In- 
trepid now  sw^ung  clear  of  the  burning  vessel,  and 
left  her  to  her  fate.  The  men  on  board  gave  a 
great  cheer  as  the  flames  burst  forth  to  the  rigging. 
Soon  the  boat  was  one  mass  of  flames,  from  hull  to 
peak,  fighting  the  entire  harbor  with  a  deep  red  glow. 


244  AMERICA  FIRST 


In  spite  of  firing  from  the  shore  batteries  and 
from  several  armed  vessels,  the  Intrepid  made  her 
way  out  of  the  harbor,  impelled  by  sweeps  in  the 
hands  of  the  crew,  and  aided  by  a  light  wind.  In 
a  short  time,  Decatur  had  joined  his  American 
fleet,  and  was  greeted  with  congratulations  for  his 
daring  exploit. 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  LEWIS  AND 
CLARK 

The  purchase  from  France,  in  1803,  of  the  great 
territory  between  the  Mississippi  River  and  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  known  as  Louisiana,  gave  to 
the  United  States  a  vast  domain  almost  unknown 
to  the  white  man. 

At  that  time,  there  were  but  two  large  towns 
in  the  whole  area.  New  Orleans  had,  perhaps, 
eight  or  ten  thousand  wooden  houses.  The  streets 
were  dirty  and  ill-paved.  The  population  num- 
bered eight  or  ten  thousand  people.  St.  Louis  was 
a  fur-trading  post,  of  not  more  than  a  thousand 
souls,  many  of  whom  were  boatmen  or  traders 
among  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  West.  There  were 
a  few  scattered  villages  along  the  rivers,  but  the 
great   body    of    the    territory    was    filled    with    In- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  245 


dians,  of  whose  nature  the  whites  were  entirely 
ignorant.  So  far  as  the  country  was  concerned, 
very  Httle  was  known  about  it. 

President  Jefferson  resolved  to  find  out  more 
about  this  vast  domain  which  had  doubled  the  ter- 
ritory of  the  United  States,  and  which  had  cost 
only  fifteen  million  dollars  to  purchase.  He  looked 
about  for  the  man  to  send  on  a  mission  of  explora- 
tion. He  selected  his  own  secretary,  Captain  Meri- 
wether Lewis,  who  invited  Captain  William  Clark, 
the  brother  of  George  Rogers  Clark,  to  join  him. 

Both  were  young  men,  who  had  seen  service  on 
the  border;  both  were  Virginians;  and  both  en- 
tered into  the  enterprise  heart  and  soul.  They 
were  directed  to  note  carefully  every  detail  of  the 
country,  and  to  find  out  all  they  could  about  the 
Indian  tribes. 

The  journey  was  a  long  one  —  two  thousand 
miles  at  least,  and  most  of  it  had  to  be  covered 
on  rivers  unknown  to  the  explorers.  With  a  party 
of  forty-three  brave  men,  they  started  from  St. 
Louis,  m  May,  1804,  on  their  toilsome  way  up 
the   Missouri   River. 

It  was  a  pleasant  time  of  the  year,  and  for  days 
the  party  sailed  or  rowed  their  boats  up  the  yel- 
low stream,  enjoying  the  beautiful  country  through 
which    they    were    passing.     Great    trees,    hanging 


246  AINIERICA  FIRST 


their  branches  to  the  water's  edge,  meadows  filled 
with  flowers,  thickets  full  of  birds  and  game,  were 
passed  day  after  day. 

At  night,  they  would  tie  up  to  a  bank  where 
there  was  a  spring,  or  clear  stream  of  fresh  water; 
then  they  would  build  a  big  camp  fire  of  drift- 
wood, cook  their  evening  meal,  station  sentries  on 
the  lookout  for  Indians  or  wild  beasts,  and  lie 
down  to  sleep. 

Late  in  July,  the  Platte  River  was  reached. 
Selecting  a  shady  and  comfortable  camp,  the  ex- 
plorers sent  messages  to  the  Indians  to  come  to  a 
friendly  meeting.  A  great  crowd  arrived,  and  re- 
ceived presents  of  flags,  tomahawks,  knives,  beads, 
looking-glasses,  red  handkerchiefs,  and  gaudy  coats; 
they  vowed  eternal  friendship  to  the  white  man. 
The  Indians  danced  around  with  as  much  glee  as 
a  lot  of  children.  TSTiy  should  they  be  at  war 
with  those  who  brought  them  such  beautiful  gifts? 

The  party  continued  on  its  way.  The  summer 
was  passing,  and  the  autumn  was  coming  on. 
Great  herds  of  buffaloes  came  down  to  the  river 
to  drink;  great  flocks  of  white  gulls  passed  them 
overhead,  while  the  woods  were  full  of  plums, 
grapes,  and  berries.  Game  and  fish  were  to  be 
had  in  abundance.  The  travelers  fared  well,  and 
were  very  happy,  though  the  nights  were  getting 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  247 

cold,  and  the  camp  fires  on  the  banks  had  to  be 
kept  going  all  the  time. 

In  the  autumn,  they  reached  the  country  of  the 
Mandan  Indians,  where  they  decided  to  spend 
the  winter.  Friendship  was  soon  established  by  the 
gifts  of  beads  and  looking-glasses.  The  time  was 
spent  in  hunting,  fishing,  and  talking.  One  night, 
by  the  camp  fire,  an  old  Chief  rose  and  said, 

''Far  to  the  setting  sun,  my  brother  will  find  a 
deep  gorge  cut  through  the  mountains.  Down  this 
gorge  pours  the  mighty  river  with  a  roar  like  the 
thunders.  Over  it  stands  always  a  deep  mist. 
High  up  in  a  dead  tree,  an  eagle  has  built  his 
nest.  My  brother  cannot  go  there  by  the  big 
canoe.     Stay  here  with  us." 

But  Lewis  rephed,  "The  great  father  has  sent 
me  to  see  beyond  the  mountains,  and  to  find  the 
big  w^ater  of  the  sea.  In  the  spring,  I  must  go, 
and  those  with  me  must  go  also.  When  the  snow 
melts  1  shall  be  gone."  So,  when  the  flowers 
bloomed,  Lewis  and  Clark  made  ready  to  move. 

Leaving  their  Indian  friends,  the  party  pushed 
on.  But  now  the  real  troubles  began.  The  navi- 
gation of  the  river  became  more  and  more  difll- 
cult.  Sometimes  they  had  to  drag  their  canoes 
along  by  tow-lines,  or  carry  them  around  the 
shoals    and    shallows.     Their    hunters    kept    them 


248  AMERICA  FIRST 


supplied  with  bear  meat,  venison,  and  other  game. 

They  reached  and  passed  the  Yellowstone.  In 
May,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  river  grew  swifter  and  smaller,  and  traveling 
became  more  and  more  difficult.  Lewis  and  Clark 
went  scouting  in  every  direction,  climbing  the 
bluffs  to  get  a  view  of  the  country.  Often  they 
saw  great  herds  of  buffaloes  feeding  on  the 
prairies. 

At  evening,  they  always  halted,  the  events  of 
the  day  were  noted  down  in  their  diaries,  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  journey  discussed,  and  plans  for  the 
next  day  decided  upon.  Fresh  logs  were  piled 
upon  the  blazing  fire,  sentinels  were  posted,  and 
the  men  stretched  themselves  upon  the  ground  for 
sleep.     By  daybreak  they  were  up  and  moving. 

In  June,  Captain  Lewis  saw  in  the  distance  a 
thin,  cloudlike  mist,  rising  out  of  the  plain.  He 
did  not  doubt  but  that  it  was  the  Great  Fall,  of 
which  the  Mandan  Indians  had  told  him.  In  a 
few  hours,  the  party  stood  upon  the  brink  of  the 
chasm,  and  saw  the  river  pour  its  great  flood 
through  the  gorge.  Even  the  eagle's  nest  was 
there,  just  as  the  Indians  had  told  him. 

There  were  thirteen  miles  of  cascades  and  rapids. 
The  Missouri  rushed  headlong  over  precipices  and 
through   canons  a  thousand  feet   deep.     It  was  a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  249 

subKme  sight,  and  these  were  the  first  white  men 
to  behold  it. 

The  boats  were  abandoned,  for  the  river  was 
now  too  narrow  and  wild  for  navigation.  No  In- 
dians could  be  found  anywhere  to  guide  them 
across  the  mountains,  so  the  party  took  to  a  well- 
beaten  trail,  which  at  last  gave  out  high  up  in  the 
mountains. 

Lewis  left  the  party  in  camp,  and  set  forth  alone 
to  find  his  way  over  the  mountains.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible task,  beset  with  danger  on  all  sides,  but  at 
last  he  crossed  the  divide,  and  came  upon  a  village 
of  the  Shoshone  or  Snake  Indians,  to  whom  he 
told  his  story.  They  were  amazed  that  he  could 
have  crossed  the  mountains  without  a  guide,  and 
on  foot. 

Going  back  with  these  Indians  to  direct  him, 
Lewis  at  last  brought  the  whole  party  over,  and 
the  journey  was  resumed.  It  was  now  winter 
again.  The  snow  fell  and  the  water  froze.  There 
was  little  to  eat,  and  the  men  grew  discouraged. 
Their  food  consisted  mainly  of  dried  fish.  WTien 
a  horse  gave  out,  it  was  killed  and  eaten.  They 
learned  to  eat  dog-meat,  and  to  be  glad  to  get  it. 
This  was  the  hardest  part  of  their  journey. 

At  last,  ragged,  half-starved,  and  footsore,  the 
explorers  came  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 


250  a:merica  first 


tains,  more  like  fugitives  than  conquerors  of  a 
great  wilderness.  They  had  traveled  four  hundred 
miles  on  foot,  through  the  tangled  forests  and 
over  mountains.  They  looked  more  hke  Indians 
than  white  men,  and  were  in  such  a  weak  condi- 
tion that  they  would  have  been  easy  prey,  if  the 
savages  had  been  unfriendly. 

But  their  troubles  were  over.  After  resting  with 
a  friendly  tribe,  they  built  canoes  and  embarked 
upon  the  stream  that  led  into  the  Columbia  River. 
More  and  more  villages  appeared,  more  and  more 
game  was  to  be  found,  and  the  streams  were  full 
of  fish.     So  they  fared  well. 

Finally,  they  entered  the  Columbia  River,  and, 
late  in  the  fall,  their  canoes  floated  into  the  mouth 
of  that  great  river  in  view  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
They  had  reached  their  goal  at  last! 

Here  the  winter  was  passed.  In  March,  1806, 
the  explorers  began  their  journey  home,  which, 
after  many  adventures,  was  safely  reached.  They 
had  been  gone  two  and  a  half  years.  Everybody 
had  given  them  up  for  lost  or  dead.  Hence,  there 
was  great  surprise  and  joy  at  their  return. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  251 


COLTER'S  RACE  FOR  LIFE 

^Vhen  Lewis  and  Clark  went  on  their  tamous 
expedition  across  the  continent,  they  had  forty- 
three  men  with  them.  Among  the  number  was  a 
man  named  Colter,  who  joined  in  the  enterprise 
more  from  a  spirit  of  adventure  than  for  any 
desire  to  be  of  service. 

The  party  had  reached  the  very  wildest  part  of 
the  region  they  were  to  explore,  when  Colter  left 
them,  saying  he  was  going  to  set  up  as  a  trapper. 
By  this  he  meant  that  he  was  going  to  catch  the 
wild  animals  of  the  region  in  traps,  and  sell  their 
skins  as  fur.  The  fur-bearing  game  was  abun- 
dant, easy  to  obtain,  and  fur  was  valuable  in  the 
markets. 

Colter  bunt  a  cabin,  set  his  traps,  and  began  to 
gather  the  pelts.  He  hved  on  small  game  and  fish, 
the  fruits  and  nuts  of  the  woods,  and  traded  with 
the  Lidians  for  corn  and  vegetables.  For  awhile 
all  went  well,  until  one  day  the  Blackfoot  tribe 
took  him  prisoner  and  carried  him  off  to  their 
village. 

Colter  began  to  wish  he  had  not  left  the  ex- 
ploring party,  especially  as  the  Blackfoots  began 


252  AlVIERICA  FIRST 


to  discuss  the  various  ways  they  could  amuse 
themselves  by  putting  him  to  death.  He  knew 
enough  of  their  language  to  understand  what  they 
were  saying.  Some  were  for  burning  him,  others 
for  shooting  him  with  arrows. 

At  last  the  Indian  Chief  approached  him,  and 
said,  ''I  have  decided  to  let  you  race  for  your 
hfe.  My  men  will  beat  you,  unless  you  are  able 
to  keep  them  from  catching  you.  Can  you  go 
fast.^" 

Colter  was  really  a  good  runner,  but  he  did  not 
msh  the  Chief  to  know  it.  He  replied,  "  I  am  a 
poor  runner,  and  your  braves  will  easily  catch 
and  kill  me.     But  I  will  do  the  best  I  can." 

They  led  him  out  on  the  prairie,  a  few  hundred 
yards  away,  and  turned  him  loose.  He  was  told 
to  run,  but  he  needed  no  advice.  The  whole  band 
of  Indians  set  up  a  yell,  and  started  after  him 
like  a  pack  of  wolves.  Each  Indian  had  either  a 
spear  or  a  short  club  or  a  tomahawk,  while  Colter 
was  unarmed  and  barefoot. 

Fear  gave  him  wings.  He  set  his  face  toward 
the  river,  six  miles  away,  and  went  like  the  wind. 
At  the  end  of  three  miles,  he  glanced  around  and 
saw  that  only  a  few  Indians  had  kept  up  with 
him.  In  fact,  but  one  was  near  him;  the  others  were 
far  behind,  and  were  losing  ground. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  253 

Colter  sped  on  as  fast  as  he  could.  His  life 
was  very  much  at  stake,  for,  after  the  next  mile, 
he  glanced  around  and  saw  the  Indian  was  not 
more  than  twenty  yards  behind  him,  with  his 
spear  ready  to  throw.  Colter  stopped  suddenly, 
and  turned  to  one  side.  The  Indian  tried  to  stop, 
but  lost  his  balance  and  fell  to  the  ground  almost 
breathless. 

Colter,  seeing  the  savage,  quickly  seized  his 
spear,  drove  it  through  his  prostrate  body,  and, 
leaving  him  dead,  started  again  for  the  river. 

The  other  Indians  were  now  coming  up.  As 
they  saw  the  dead  body  of  their  companion,  they 
stopped  to  howl  a  few  minutes,  according  to  their 
custom,  and  then  ran  on  in  pursuit  of  the  fleeing 
white  man. 

Faster  and  faster  flew  Colter,  coming  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  river.  At  length,  he  reached  a 
thicket  near  the  bank,  into  which  he  plunged; 
then  he  turned  a  little  ways  to  one  side,  so  as  to 
deceive  his  pursuers.  Into  the  current  he  went 
swimming  with  all  his  strength  to  a  small  island 
in  the  river. 

The  Indians  reached  the  shore  a  little  later  and 
saw  Colter.  With  loud  yells  they  followed,  bent 
upon  his  destruction,  and  thinking  they  had  caught 
him  at  last. 


254  AiMERICA  FIRST 


But  Colter  was  not  so  easily  trapped.  He  dived 
under  the  driftwood  near  the  island,  and  came  to 
a  place  between  two  logs  in  a  pile  of  brush,  wiiere 
his  nose  and  eyes  alone  showed  above  water. 
Here  he  held  himself  still  for  a  long  time,  breath- 
ing whatever  air  he  could,  and  watching  for  his 
foe. 

The  Indians  ran  in  every  direction  over  the 
island,  and  looked  in  among  the  driftwood,  ^^lien 
they  came  near  his  hiding-place,  Colter  sank  under 
the  water,  and  very  quietly  came  up  somewhere 
else.  If  they  had  set  fire  to  the  driftwood  and 
brush,  they  w^ould  have  smoked  him  out.  He 
feared  that  they  w^ould  do  this,  but  fortunately 
the  Indians  were  not  clever  enough  to  think  of  it. 

At  last  the  savages  went  away,  thinking  Colter 
was  drowned.  The  next  day  he  swam  to  land, 
and  tramped  a  long  distance  across  the  prairies. 
He  was  without  shoes,  and  had  but  little  clothing. 
Neither  had  he  any  gun,  nor  any  other  means  of 
securing  food.  He  lived  on  roots  and  berries  for 
many  days. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  trading-post,  and  told  his 
wonderful  story.  He  said  that  during  his  wan- 
derings he  had  passed  springs  that  were  boiling 
hot,  and  fountains  that  would  spout  water  and 
steam  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  air.     Nobody  be- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  255 

lieved  him  then,  but  now  we  know  that  he  was 
really  the  first  white  man  to  see  the  wonderful 
geysers  of  the  Yellowstone  Park. 


PIKE  EXPLORES  THE  ARKANSAS 
VALLEY 

Lieutenant  Zebulon  M.  Pike  w^as  a  bold  young 
adventurer,  who,  when  twenty-seven  years  of  age, 
undertook  to  explore  the  country  between  Arkansas 
and  the  Red  Rivers,  in  the  same  way  that  Lew^is 
and  Clark  had  explored  the  region  of  the  Missouri 
River. 

In  July,  1806,  Pike  and  his  men,  full  of  courage 
and  high  spirits,  left  St.  Louis  in  row-boats.  They 
were  prepared  for  the  usual  hard  journey  that 
awaited  explorers  of  the  far  west,  with  all  its 
dangers  and  discomforts.  Their  boats  made  about 
fifteen  miles  a  day.  They  lived  on  deer,  turkeys, 
and  bears  which  they  easily  killed  in  their  hunt- 
ing trips  along  the  banks  of  the  river. 

They  turned  into  the  Osage  River,  and,  about 
the  middle  of  August,  reached  some  Indian  villages 
where  they  were  welcomed  by  the  dusky  Osage 
warriors,    and   refreshed   after   their   tiresome   trip. 


256  AIVIERICA   FIRST 


Here  Pike  mounted  his  men  on  horses,  and  made 
ready  for  his  long  journey  by  land. 

Their  first  destination  was  the  Pawnee  villages 
far  away  on  the  Platte  River,  where  a  tribe  of 
Indians  Uved  whose  friendship  for  the  Americans 
was  uncertain.  On  September  1,  the  party  drove 
away  full  of  hope  and  confidence.  With  them  rode 
a  band  of  Osage  warriors  for  a  short  distance,  to 
show  them  their  good-will  and  to  do  them  honor. 

In  a  few  days  the  party  rode  across  the  divid- 
ing ridge,  and  the  prairies  of  Kansas  spread  before 
them.  Far  as  the  eye  could  see,  the  rich  land 
stretched,  level  and  beautiful,  covered  with  tall 
grass  and  low-growing  bushes.  A  few  hills,  here 
and  there,  broke  the  monotony  of  the  landscape. 
Occasionally,  a  group  of  trees  could  be  located, 
and  there,  beneath  the  branches  the  Indians  buried 
their  dead  to  keep  the  bodies  from  the  devouring 
wolves  and  coyotes.  It  was  a  wonderful  country, 
which  in  future  years  was  to  be  the  greatest  grain- 
growing  section  of  the  world. 

At  last,  Pike  came  to  the  Pawnee  villages.  The 
evil  reputation  of  these  savages  boded  no  good  to 
his  mission  of  friendship.  He  was  far  from  home, 
and  his  band  was  few  in  numbers.  Just  before  he 
arrived,  a  body  of  three  hundred  Spanish  soldiers, 
from  New  Mexico,  had  been  there,  and  sown  dis- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  fflSTORY  257 


trust  and  enmity  for  the  Americans.  When  Pike 
arrived,  with  his  twenty-three  men,  the  Indians 
did  not  try  to  conceal  their  disdain. 

"Our  friends,  the  Spaniards,  have  many  war- 
riors, on  strong  horses,  and  bring  many  presents. 
You  are  nothing  beside  them,  and  we  do  not  fear 
you,"  said  the  Chief  to  Pike. 

Pike  repKed,  "There  are  few  of  us  here,  but 
there  are  many  of  us  where  I  come  from.  The 
Spaniards  are  many  here,  but  few  at  home.  We 
bring  friendship  and  peace.  You  had  best  Hsten 
to  us,  and  not  to  the  Spaniards." 

But  the  savages  would  not  attend  his  councils, 
and  looked  on  with  sour  faces  when  Pike  raised 
the  American  flag  in  their  villages.  They  prob- 
ably thought  he  was  trying  to  amuse  them  by  some 
sort  of  game,  but  they  refused  to  be  amused. 

After  leaving  the  Pawnee  villages.  Pike's  party 
continued  its  westward  journey,  going  up  the 
Arkansas  River,  looking  for  its  source.  Toward 
the  beginning  of  winter  they  reached  the  Spanish 
Peaks,  where  the  river,  growling  smaller  all  the 
time,  finally  was  lost  among  the  hills.  They  were 
now  in  the  land  that  afterwards  became  Colorado. 
Before  them  lay  a  lofty  peak,  which  Pike  deter- 
mined to  climb,  that  he  might  get  a  better  view 
of    the    country.     Day    after    day    he    struggled 


258  a:merica  first 


through  the  tangled  brush,  over  gulhes,  and  up 
the  steep  sides  of  the  mountain.  Every  night 
brought  him  and  his  men  nearer  the  top.  Amid 
many  difficulties,  he  reached  a  great  altitude,  and 
at  last,  on  the  very  summit,  saw  the  wonderful 
plains  and  prairies  of  Colorado  spread  before  him. 

The  high  point  was  afterwards  named  **  Pike's 
Peak,"  in  honor  of  the  intrepid  explorer.  To-day, 
a  railway  track  is  laid  to  the  top  of  the  same 
mountain,  and  in  summer  many  visitors  take,  in 
perfect  comfort,  the  same  wonderful  climb  that 
Pike  and  his  men  took  with  such  hardship. 

Winter  now  set  in.  The  rivers  began  to  freeze, 
the  snow  fell  and  covered  the  trails,  the  wood  be- 
came too  wet  to  burn,  and  Pike  and  his  men  en- 
dured untold  misery.  Trying  to  find  his  way  back 
to  the  head  waters  of  the  Red  River,  he  missed 
his  way,  and  the  party  wandered  like  lost  men 
through  the  hills,  without  shelter  and  often  with- 
out food.  Men  with  less  courage  and  strength 
would  have  perished  in  the  terrible  hardships  they 
endured. 

At  last  they  built  a  block-house  for  shelter,  and 
settled  down  to  wait.  Pike  sent  one  of  his  men 
to  hunt  for  Santa  Fe,  the  Spanish  town,  and  to 
bring  succor.  When  the  messenger  reached  Santa 
Fe  and  told  his  story,  the  Spaniards  hstened  with 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  259 


some    distrust,    but   sent   a   squadron   of   horse   to 
find  Pike  and  his  men. 

Reaching  the  brave  httle  party,  the  Spaniards 
arrested  Pike  for  being  on  Spanish  territory;  they 
suspected  him  of  having  designs  on  New  Mexico. 
Pike  was  glad  enough  to  be  rescued,  no  matter 
what  the  Spaniards  thought  of  him.  Here  is  how 
he,  himself,  describes  what  befell  him  and  his  men, 
w^hen  they  reached  Santa  Fe: 

"WTien  we  presented  ourselves  at  Santa  Fe,  I 
was  dressed  in  a  pair  of  blue  trousers,  moccasins, 
blanket-coat,  and  a  cap  made  of  scarlet  cloth, 
hned  with  fox  skins,  and  my  poor  fellows  in  leg- 
gings, breech-cloths,  and  leather  coats.  There  was 
not  a  hat  in  the  whole  party.  Our  appearance  was 
extremely  mortifying  to  us  all,  especially  as  sol- 
diers. Greater  proof  cannot  be  given  of  the  igno- 
rance of  the  people  here  than  their  asking  if  we 
lived  in  houses  or  in  camps  like  the  Indians,  or  if 
we  wore  hats  in  our  country." 

After  a  brief  detention,  as  prisoners,  and  largely 
because  of  satisfactory  explanation  on  Pike's  part, 
the  explorers  were  sent  back  to  the  United  States 
under  an  armed  escort,  though  Pike's  papers  were 
taken  from  him,  so  that  he  had  to  supply  the  de- 
tails of  his  explorations  as  best  he  could  from 
memory. 


^60  a:merica  first 


HOW  THE  PUMPKINS  SAVED  A  FAMILY 

When  the  Moore  family  moved  to  Ohio,  about 
a  hundred  years  ago,  they  had  to  carry  with  them 
everything  they  needed.  They  went  in  a  covered 
wagon,  with  all  their  household  goods,  a  long 
supply  of  provisions,  guns,  axes,  implements  w^ith 
which  to  cultivate  the  farm  and  garden,  and  seeds 
to  plant.  Like  all  other  pioneers  who  went  into 
the  wilderness  of  the  West,  they  were  prepared  for 
almost  any  emergency.  There  could  be  no  sending 
back  home  for  anything! 

The  IMoores  built  a  log  cabin  by  the  side  of  a 
stream,  and  not  far  from  the  cabins  of  other 
pioneers  like  themselves.  Around  them  was  the 
deep  forest,  full  of  game.  In  the  rivers  and  lakes 
there  was  an  abundance  of  fish.  The  soil  was  very 
fertile  and  grew  anything  that  was  planted.  Their 
cabin  had  but  one  room,  with  a  big  fireplace  in 
which  all  the  cooking  was  done.  The  boys  slept 
in  a  loft,  which  they  reached  by  a  ladder  from  the 
inside.  1 

The  first  winter  was  hard.  It  was  cold  out- 
side, but  Mr.  Moore  had  cleaned  up  his  land,  and 
there  was  plenty  of  fuel;    so  that,  when  the  wind 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  261 

roared  and  the  snow  fell,  the  family  sat  about  the 
big  fire  and  talked  of  the  people  back  East,  or  dis- 
cussed the  plans  for  the  spring  planting.  After 
the  coals  had  been  pulled  over  the  embers,  in 
order  to  have  fire  in  the  morning,  the  family  went 
to  bed,  and  covered  themselves  with  the  heavy 
robes  they  had  bought  from  the  Indians.  During 
the  day,  the  boys  trapped  rabbits,  and  shot  other 
game  in  the  woods.  So  the  family  had  plenty  of 
meat  to  eat,  though  they  had  to  be  sparing  of  the 
meal  and  flour  they  had  brought  with  them. 

After  the  snow  had  melted,  the  ground  was  soft 
and  ready  for  plowing  and  planting.  Among  the 
seed  w^hich  Mr.  Moore  had  brought  were  some 
pumpkin  seed,  and  one  of  the  boys,  named  Obed, 
was  careful  to  plant  them  in  a  good  place  so  that 
the  pumpkins  w^ould  flourish.  He  had  not  for- 
gotten Hallowe'en  and  Thanksgiving. 

The  crops  did  marvelously  w^ell.  There  was 
plenty  of  wheat,  and  corn,  and  potatoes,  and  the 
way  those  pumpkins  grew  was  something  to  be 
proud  of!  Spring  and  summer  passed,  and  winter 
came  on  again.  There  was  now  an  abundance  of 
food,  ample  wood  for  the  winter,  and  everybody 
was  w^ell.  The  Moores  were  as  happy  and  prosper- 
ous a  pioneer  family  as  one  could  find  anywhere. 

The  only  thing  that  gave  any  fear  at  all  was  the 


262  AMERICA  FIRST 


Indians.  Those  lurking  savages  had  been  acting 
badly  of  late.  Mrs.  Moore  had  always  been  kind 
to  them,  and  Mr.  ]Moore  had  often  given  them 
little  trinkets  and  tobacco  and  medicine.  There 
was  no  reason  why  the  Moores  should  be  afraid 
of  their  savage  neighbors,  but  still  they  were,  and 
Mr.  Moore  never  left  the  house  without  misgivings. 

On  the  Monday  before  Hallowe'en,  Mr.  Moore 
set  out  for  the  nearest  village  on  a  two  days' 
journey,  to  buy  some  things  he  needed  for  the 
winter.  ''Take  care  of  the  mother  and  the  chil- 
dren," he  told  the  boys,  Joe  and  Obed,  "and  keep 
a  sharp  lookout  for  the  Indians."  With  that  he 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  off  down  the  trail. 

Joe  and  Obed  went  into  the  garden,  and  brought 
in  two  immense  pumpkins.  With  these  they  be- 
gan to  make  jack-o'-lanterns,  just  as  they  did 
before  they  came  to  their  new  home  in  the  West. 
They  cut  out  the  eyes  and  nose  and  mouth,  and 
scooped  out  the  inside  of  each  pumpkin,  making 
places  for  the  candles.  They  were  particular  to 
make  two  as  hideous  heads  as  possible,  though 
they  had  no  idea  what  they  would  do  with  them 
afterwards. 

Hardly  had  they  finished  the  lanterns,  than  a 
man  came  riding  up  to  the  door.  "The  Indians 
are  coming!     The  Indians  are  coming!     Close  your 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  263 

doors  and  get  ready  for  an  attack,"  he  cried. 
''They  killed  a  family  down  the  river,  and  are 
marching  this  way.  Give  me  a  fresh  horse,  for 
mine  is  broken  down." 

The  boys  quickly  handed  him  over  one  of  their 
horses,  and  led  his  exhausted  animal  into  their 
barn.  They  barred  the  door  and  windows,  put 
out  the  lights,  for  it  was  now  dark,  loaded  their 
guns,  and  crouched  down  by  the  fireplace  to  wait. 
"If  father  were  only  here,"  whispered  Joe  to  Obed. 
"Never  mind,"  answered  Obed,  "we  will  give  a 
good  account  of  ourselves." 

The  two  boys  heard  a  sound  in  the  yard.  Even 
though  it  was  dark,  the  snow  had  fallen  that 
morning,  so  one  could  see  fairly  well.  Cautiously 
peering  through  the  windows,  Obed  caught  sight 
of  figures  moving  across  the  yard  toward  the  cabin. 

"They  are  coming,"  he  whispered.  "Give  me 
the  rifle." 

Joe  turned  to  get  the  gun,  and  his  eyes  fell  on 
the  two  jack-o'-lanterns  he  and  his  brother  had 
made.  A  great  idea  flashed  through  his  mind. 
"It  is  worth  trying,  anyway,"  he  said  to  himself. 
Then  he  seized  a  burning  coal  from  the  fire,  and 
blew  it  into  a  blaze.  Then  he  lighted  two  candles, 
and  put  them  inside  one  of  the  pumpkins.  He 
did  the  same  thing  with  the  other  pumpkin. 


264  AIMERICA  FIRST 


''Here,  Obed,"  he  cried,  "we  will  scare  those 
devils  to  death." 

Seizing  one  of  the  lanterns,  with  the  light  gleam- 
ing hideously  from  the  great  mouth  and  eyes  and 
nose,  Joe  threw  open  the  blind,  and  held  the  pump- 
kin in  the  window.  Obed  followed  his  brother's 
example. 

By  this  time,  a  dozen  Indians  were  in  the  yard, 
making  ready  for  the  attack.  Seeing  the  hideous 
monsters  at  the  windows,  and  hearing  a  loud 
groaning  noise  which  Joe  and  Obed  made,  the 
savages  were  overcome  with  terror.  The  lanterns 
bobbed  up  and  down,  turned  this  way  and  that, 
and  appeared  to  glare  furiously  at  the  intruders. 
Then  the  two  boys  let  forth  a  hideous  whoop,  and 
fired  off  a  gun. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  red-skins.  With 
loud  yells,  they  fled  into  the  forest,  and  did  not 
stop  running  until  they  were  miles  away.  Joe 
and  Obed  never  tired  of  telling  their  friends 
how  two  pumpkins  saved  the  Moore  family  from 
destruction. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  265 


OLD  IRONSIDES 

The  good  ship  Constitution  was  built  by  order  of 
Congress  to  fight  the  pirate  ships  of  Algeria.  She 
was  built  in  Boston,  and  was  designed  to  be  a 
httle  bigger  and  a  httle  better  than  any  other 
fighting  ship  of  her  kind  afloat. 

The  Constitution  was  made  of  the  best  material 
and  with  the  greatest  care.  Workmen  searched  the 
lumber-yards  of  the  South  for  oak,  cedar  and  pine. 
Paul  Revere,  who  made  the  famous  midnight  ride, 
furnished  the  copper.  It  took  three  years  to  build 
the  frigate,  and,  when  she  was  done,  her  timbers 
had  seasoned  until  they  were  hard  as  iron. 

The  Constitution  played  her  part  in  the  war 
against  the  pirates  of  the  Barbary  Coast  in  Africa. 
For  two  years  there  was  plenty  of  fighting,  in 
which  the  frigate  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life. 
She  never  lost  her  mast,  nor  was  she  ever  seriously 
injured  in  battle  or  in  storm.  She  never  lost  a 
commanding  officer,  and  only  a  few  of  her  crew 
were  killed. 

It  was  during  the  War  of  181^  that  the  Consti- 
tution won  her  chief  glory.  Her  most  remarkable 
feat  was  her  escape  from  a  British  squadron. 


AiMERICA  FIRST 


At  daybreak,  toward  the  middle  of  July,  1812, 
off  the  New  Jersey  coast,  the  frigate  found  herself 
surrounded  by  a  fleet  of  British  ships  that  had 
crept  up  in  the  night.  They  were  waiting  for 
da^\^l  to  begin  the  attack.  Captain  Isaac  Hull 
was  in  command  of  the  Constitution,  and  had  no 
idea  of  surrendering  his  ship.  He  thought  only  of 
means  to  escape  from  his  danger. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  ruffled  the  water,  and  the 
sails  of  all  the  ships  were  useless.  One  of  the 
British  frigates  was  being  towed  by  all  the  boats 
of  her  squadron,  so  as  to  get  her  near  enough  to 
the  Constitution  to  open  fire.  The  boats  then  ex- 
pected to  bring  other  frigates  iMo  position,  and 
thus  begin  a  general  battle.  This  would  seal  the 
doom  of  the  Constitution.  Without  wind,  there  was 
no  chance  for  her  to  get  away.  But  Hull  was  not  to  be 
caught.     He  thought  of  his  anchor  and  windlass. 

"How  much  water  have  we  under  this  ship?" 
he  shouted.  Upon  being  told  he  had  twenty 
fathoms,  he  cried  out, 

"Bring  up  the  anchor  and  all  the  spare  ropes 
and  cable.     Then  all  hands  to  the  boats!" 

The  order  was  quickly  obeyed.  Putting  the 
anchor  into  a  boat,  it  was  carried  a  mile  ahead 
and  dropped  into  the  ocean.  The  ropes  and  cables 
attached  to  it  were  still  fastened  to  the  windlass. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  267 

The  men  on  the  ship  began  to  wind  up  the  wind- 
lass, and  gradually  drew  the  boat  along  to  the 
place  where  the  anchor  was  dropped. 

Then  the  anchor  was  moved  ahead  another  mile, 
and  the  boat  drawn  up  again.  In  this  manner, 
slow  progress  was  made  through  the  water,  but  it 
was  better  than  not  making  any  headway  at  all. 

The  pursuit  was  kept  up  for  two  days.  But 
slowly  the  Constitution  gained  on  her  pursuers, 
until,  after  a  two  days'  chase,  the  enemy  was  four 
miles    astern. 

A  squall  gave  Hull  his  chance  to  open  sails  and 
hide  behind  the  rain  and  cloud-banks.  In  a  few 
hours,  the  weather  cleared,  and  the  British  were 
almost  out  of  sight.  They  soon  abandoned  the 
chase,  and  Hull  took  his  frigate  into  Boston  har- 
bor, amid  the  cheers  of  the  people. 

In  less  than  two  weeks,  he  was  out  again,  search- 
ing the  ocean  for  British  craft,  and  ready  to  give 
battle  to  any  vessel  he  might  meet.  The  British 
had  a  fine  frigate,  named  the  Guerriere,  com- 
manded by  Captain  Dacres,  who  was  a  personal 
friend  of  Captain  Hull.  The  Guerriere  had  chal- 
lenged any  vessel  of  the  American  fleet  to  battle, 
and  was  cruising  on  the  Atlantic,  waiting  for  an 
answer.  The  Constitution  went  out  to  accept  the 
challenge. 


268  AMERICA  FIRST 


Years  before  this,  Dacres  and  Hull  had  been 
talking  about  a  possible  battle  between  their  frig- 
ates. ''If  we  ever  meet  in  combat,  I  wager  a 
fine  hat  I  will  make  you  surrender,"  said  Dacres 
to  Hull. 

''Agreed,"  was  the  laughing  reply  of  Captain 
Hull.     "I  expect  to  win  that  hat  some  day." 

In  x\ugust,  about  seven  hundred  miles  from 
Boston,  the  two  vessels  met.  The  Constitution  and 
the  Guerriere  were  the  finest  frigates  in  the  world, 
their  Commanders  equally  brave,  their  men  equally 
matched.  It  was  a  question  of  ship  management 
and  gun  power. 

The  British  frigate  flung  out  a  flag  of  defiance 
from  each  topmast.  Her  guns  began  to  roar,  but 
the  balls  fell  short  of  the  Constitution. 

"Don't  fire  until  I  give  the  word.  Let  the  two 
vessels  draw  near  together  before  we  open.  Keep 
steady  and  ready,  and  never  mind  their  guns/' 
said  Hull  to  his  men. 

The  two  ships  drifted  nearer  and  nearer.  The 
enemy's  broadsides  tore  through  the  rigging  of 
the  Constitution.  One  of  the  enemy's  balls  struck 
the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  fell  into  the  sea.  A 
sailor,  looking  overboard,  said, 

"See  the  balls  falling  away  from  her.  She's  an 
old  ironside,  sir,  an  old  ironside." 


*The  Guerriere  was  a  helpless  hulk  in  the  water. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  269 

From  that  time  on,  the  Constitution  was  called 
''Old  Ironsides." 

The  two  vessels  came  fairly  abreast,  near  enough 
for  the  men  to  see  each  other,  and  for  good  pistol 
shot. 

"Ready,  men,  do  your  full  duty  and  fire," 
shouted  Hull. 

Broadside  after  broadside  was  poured  into  the 
Giierriere.  First  her  mizzen  mast  fell,  then  her 
foremast  was  cut  down,  then  her  rigging  and  flag; 
she  w^as  soon  a  helpless  hulk  in  the  water. 

Dacres  surrendered,  and  came  on  board  the  Con- 
stitution  to  deliver  his  sword  to  his  old  friend. 
But  Hull  smihngly  said, 

"No,  Dacres,  you  can  keep  the  sword,  for  you 
are  too  brave  a  man  to  be  without  one.  I  want 
that  hat  you  and  I  wagered  some  years  ago." 

When  "Old  Ironsides"  sailed  into  Boston  on  the 
last  day  of  August,  you  may  well  believe  the 
people  shouted  themselves  hoarse,  and  waved  flags, 
and  hung  out  bunting,  and  gave  grand  dinners  in 
honor  of  this  great  naval  victory. 


270  AMERICA  FIRST 


TECUMSEH 

Tecumseh  was  probably  the  greatest  American 
Indian  that  race  has  ever  produced.  He  was  the 
most  eloquent  orator  ever  known  among  the  savage 
tribes.  When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  deep  and 
full,  like  an  organ,  his  face  shone  with  emotion,  and 
his  words  were  remarkable  for  their  poetic  beauty. 

His  father  was  a  Shawnee  warrior,  and  was  killed 
in  battle  with  white  settlers,  when  Tecumseh  was 
a  mere  child.  This  impressed  him  with  a  great 
resolve  to  keep  the  white  men  out  of  the  Indian 
lands,  and  to  fight  them  whenever  he  could. 

He  possessed  a  sensitive  dignity,  as  is  shown  by 
the  following  incident.  Upon  one  occasion,  when 
he  came  with  his  warriors  to  hold  a  conference 
with  General  Harrison,  he  looked  around,  after  he 
had  finished  his  address,  to  find  a  seat.  Seeing 
that  none  had  been  reserved  for  him,  he  appeared 
offended. 

A  white  man,  seated  near  General  Harrison, 
arose  and  offered  him  his  seat,  saying,  "Your 
father  wishes  you  to  sit  by  his  side." 

*'The  sun  is  my  father,  and  the  earth  is  my 
mother.     I  shall  sit  in  his  light  and   rest  on  her 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  271 


bosom,"  said  Tecumseli.     Whereupon,  he  sat  down 
on  the  ground,  in  the  full  light  of  the  sun. 

Tecumseh  was  a  noble  soldier,  and  never  al- 
lowed any  prisoners  to  be  tortured.  He  promised 
General  Harrison  that,  in  case  of  war  between  the 
Indians  and  the  whites,  he  w^ould  not  permit  his 
w^arriors  to  massacre  w^omen  and  children.  He 
faithfully  kept  his  word.  At  the  siege  of  Fort 
Meigs,  the  Indians  began  murdering  their  pris- 
oners. Tecumseh  ran  in,  and,  brandishing  his 
tomahawk,  bade  them  stop  at  once.  Turning  to 
General  Procter,  who   stood   looking   on,  he   cried 

out, 

"\Miy  do  you  permit  this  outrage?  Why  did 
you  not  stop  those  men,  and  save  those  wretched 
prisoners?" 

Procter  rephed  that  the  Indians  could  not  be 
restrained,  and  that  he  could  not  prevent  the 
massacre. 

Tecumseh  was  furious  at  this,  and  said,  ''Be- 
gone, you  coward.  You  are  not  fit  to  command 
men.  Go  and  put  on  a  petticoat,  and  sit  with 
the  women,  where  you  belong." 

Procter  was  not  a  brave  soldier,  and,  at  one 
time,  burned  his  stores  and  abandoned  his  fort, 
even  though  he  had  a  thousand  men  and  three 
thousand    Indian    allies.     Tecumseh    was    so    dis- 


272  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


gusted  with  his  cowardice,  that  he  compared  him 
to  a  fat  dog,  who  barked  and  held  his  tail  high, 
when  there  was  no  danger,  but  who  howled,  and 
dropped  his  tail  between  his  legs  and  ran,  when- 
ever any  one  attacked  him. 

Wien  Tecumseh  w^ent  to  Alabama  to  stir  up 
the  Creek  Indians  against  the  whites  of  that  sec- 
tion, he  found  them  unwilling  to  rise  against  their 
neighbors  and  friends.  All  his  eloquence  failed  to 
move  them,  and,  to  all  his  appeals  and  threats, 
they  merely  shook  their  heads.  Finally,  in  a 
burst  of  anger,  he  cried  out, 

''Your  blood  is  white,  and  no  longer  runs  red 
like  the  rising  sun.  You  do  not  fight  because  you 
are  cowards  and  are  afraid  to  fight.  You  do  not 
believe  the  Great  Spirit  has  sent  me,  but  you  shall 
believe  it.  I  am  going  back  to  Detroit.  It  will 
take  me  many  days,  but  when  I  reach  there,  I 
shall  tell  the  Great  Spirit,  and  I  shall  stamp  my 
foot  on  the  ground,  and  shake  every  house  m 
your  village." 

So  saying,  he  left,  and  journeyed  northward. 
The  Indians  counted  the  days  until  he  should 
reach  home.  Strangely  enough,  about  the  time  he 
was  due  there,  an  earthquake  shook  the  village. 
The  Indians  rushed  wildly  for  their  dwellings, 
crying  out. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  273 


"Tecumseli  has  arrived  in  Detroit;  lie  has  told 
the  Great  Spirit;  we  feel  the  stamping  of  his 
foot!" 

The  last  battle  in  which  this  warrior  was  en- 
gaged was  that  of  the  Thames.  The  Americans 
had  been  pursuing  the  British  and  their  Indian 
allies  for  some  time,  until  Tecumseh  was  tired  of 
the  disgraceful  state  of  affairs,  and  told  the  British 
officer,  Procter,  that  he  would  retreat  no  longer. 
"We  will  stand  here  and  give  battle,"  said  he. 
"I  and  my  warriors  were  not  made  for  running 
away  from  our  enemies." 

The  result  was  the  battle  of  the  Thames.  At 
the  opening  of  the  conflict,  Tecumseh  turned  to 
his  friends,  and  said, 

"Brother  warriors,  I  shall  never  come  out  of 
this  battle  ahve.  I  go  there  to  die,  but  I  go. 
My  body  w^ill  remain  on  the  field,  I  know  it  will 
be  so." 

He  unbuckled  his  sword,  and  handed  it  to  one 
of  his  Chiefs,  and  said,  "When  my  son  becomes  a 
great  warrior,  give  him  this  sword,  and  tell  him 
his  father  died  like  a  brave  Chief  and  a  hero. 
Tell  my  people  I  died  for  their  rights."  With 
that,  he  also  took  off  the  British  uniform,  which 
he  had  been  wearing,  and  put  on  his  own  savage 
dress  and  war-paint. 


274  AMERICA  FIRST 


The  battle  raged  for  a  while  with  fury.  Procter 
at  last  fled  through  the  swamps  and  wilderness, 
escaping  with  a  few  followers.  Tecumseh,  how- 
ever, brandishing  his  club,  rushed  upon  his  pur- 
suers, and  fell,  pierced  with  many  wounds. 


THE  STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER 

During  the  War  of  1812,  the  British  fleet  block- 
aded our  ports  and  sailed  up  our  rivers  to  attack 
our  cities  and  forts.  Thus,  they  entered  the 
Chesapeake  Bay,  and  landed  troops  ^outside  Wash- 
ington City. 

A  battle  was  fought  near  tliere,  but  the  British 
were  not  stopped  from  pursuing  their  way  to  the 
capital.  The  city  was  in  great  danger  and  the 
people  hastened  to  gather  their  possessions  and 
made  their  escape.  There  were  only  eight  thou- 
sand inhabitants  in  Washington  at  that  time.  It 
was  a  small  town,  as  compared  with  its  great  size 
and  splendor,  to-day.; 

A  messenger  rode  in  haste  to  bid  the  people 
flee.  He  came  to  the  White  House,  where  Dolly 
Madison,  the  wife  of  President  James  Madison, 
was  waiting  for  her  husband.  He  called  out  to 
her,  "Mr.  Madison  says  go,  or  the  house  will  be 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  275 


burned  over  your  head.  The  British  are  on  the 
way  to  the  capital.  There  is  no  time  to  lose. 
Escape   as   quickly   as   you   can." 

Dolly  Madison  did  not  go  at  once,  but  set  about 
gathering  the  Cabinet  papers,  and  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  which  she  made  a  servant  pack 
in  a  trunk.  Then  she  ordered  a  large  portrait  of 
Washington  to  be  cut  out  of  its  frame,  and  rolled 
up  so  she  could  take  that  too.  Having  done 
these  things,  she  escaped  with  her  treasures,  just 
as  the  British  were  entering  the  city. 

The  soldiers  marched  into  the  deserted  town, 
and  burned  the  Treasury  Building,  the  Pubhc 
Library,  and  the  White  House.  A  notorious  officer, 
named  Cockburn,  followed  by  a  mob  of  soldiers, 
entered  the  new  Capitol,  climbed  into  the  Speaker's 
chair,  and  called  out:  ''Shall  this  harbor  of  Yankee 
Democracy  be  burned?" 

The  mob  of  half-drunken  soldiers  called  out, 
"Aye,"  and  proceeded  to  apply  the  torch  to  the 
building. 

Dolly  Madison  found  refuge  with  her  friends  in 
the  country.  When  she  and  the  President  returned 
to  Washington,  they  had  to  five  in  a  rented  house. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  burning  of  the  city, 
the  British  began  to  attack  Fort  McHenry,  which 
was  built  to  protect  the  harbor  of  Baltimore.     One 


276  a:\ierica  first 


evening,  the  British  sent  two  bomb  vessels,  and  a 
number  of  barges,  filled  with  soldiers,  to  pass  the 
fort  and  assail  it  in  the  rear. 

But  the  noise  of  their  oars  was  heard  In  the 
darkness,  and  an  order  was  given  to  open  fire  on 
them.  A  deadly  discharge  was  poured  out  from 
Fort  McHenry  upon  the  creeping  craft,  with  the 
result  that  nearly  all  of  them  were  sent  to  the 
bottom. 

The  English  suffered  so  much  from  this  repulse 
that  they  abandoned  the  attack  and  sailed  away. 

During  the  bombardment,  Francis  Scott  Key,  a 
young  lawyer,  was  sent,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  to 
convey  a  message  to  the  British  fleet.  His  pur- 
pose was  to  secure  the  release  of  several  prisoners. 

After  delivering  his  message.  Key  and  his  party 
were  on  the  point  of  departure,  when  an  officer 
said, 

''Mr.  Key,  I  have  orders  to  detain  you  and  your 
party  until  the  bombardment  is  over.  You  will, 
therefore,  remain  here." 

Key  did  not  like  to  be  held,  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it.  So  he  and  his  associates  were  kept  in 
a  little  vessel  moored  to  the  side  of  an  English 
ship,  under  guard  of  a  body  of  soldiers.  Here,  on 
the  deck,  they  witnessed  the  bombardment  of  the 
fort. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  277 

All  night  long  the  shells  were  fired.  Key 
watched  each  one  as  it  fell  upon  the  fort,  and 
listened  for  each  explosion.  Suddenly,  before  the 
morning  dawned,  the  firing  ceased. 

''Has  the  fort  surrendered,  or  have  the  British 
abandoned  the  attack?"  was  the  anxious  thought 
in  the  minds  of  the  weary  watchers. 

There  was  no  way  to  find  out  until  day  came. 
"If  the  flag  is  still  flying,  then  the  fort  has  not 
surrendered,"  said  Key  to  his  companions.  Anx- 
iously they  paced  the  deck. 

As  day  dawned,  they  turned  their  glasses  toward 
the  fort,  and,  to  their  great  joy,  they  saw  the 
flag  was  still  there.  Key  was  overcome  with  emo- 
tion. Drawing  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  he  wrote 
on  the  back  of  it  the  opening  lines  of  our  national 
song,  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 

Later  in  the  day,  a  small  boat  took  him  back 
to  Baltimore.  On  his  way  he  completed  the  poem. 
That  very  night,  he  corrected  it,  and  wrote  it  out 
as  we  now  have  it.  The  next  day,  he  showed  the 
poem  to  a  friend  of  his,  who  was  so  pleased  that 
he  had  it  printed  in  a  Baltimore  paper. 

When  the  words  appeared,  they  were  eagerly 
memorized  by  an  actor,  named  Charles  Durang, 
who  stood  on  a  chair  and,  for  the  first  time, 
sang  them  to  a  crowd.     Then,  everybody  joined  in. 


AMERICA  FIRST 


Soon  the  piece  was  being  sung  all  over  the  coun- 
try. It  is  our  great  national  song,  and  whenever 
it  is  played  or  sung,  we  rise  reverently  and  un- 
cover our  heads,  proud  of  our  great  flag  and  of 
the  deeds  of  valor  it  has  encouraged. 


TRA^"ELING  BY  THE  CANAL 

Long  before  the  days  of  railroads  and  auto- 
mobiles, the  people  of  the  country  had  to  travel 
from  one  place  to  another  by  means  of  stage- 
coaches and  wagons,  over  rough  roads,  and  with  a 
great  deal  of  discomfort.  The  pioneers  made  use 
of  the  rivers  when  they  could,  for  traveling  by 
water  was  much  easier  than  jolting,  or  sticking  m 
the  mud  every  few  miles. 

The  people  began  to  think  of  a  system  of  water- 
ways, or  canals,  to  connect  the  rivers  with  one 
another,  and  to  open  up  communication  with  the 
Great  Lakes  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  The  greatest 
of  all  these  channels  is  the  Erie  Canal,  extending 
from  Albany,  on  the  Hudson  River,  to  Buffalo,  on 
Lake  Erie.  By  it,  an  all-water  way  was  secured 
from  New  York  to  the  Great  Lakes,  openmg  up 
traffic  between  the  East  and  the  rapidly  growing 
West. 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  279 

The  Canal  was  a  great  enterprise.  It  took  eight 
years  to  build,  was  three  hundred  and  sixty-three 
miles  long,  forty  feet  wide,  and,  at  first,  only  four 
feet  deep.  Later  on  it  was  made  seven  feet  deep. 
It  cost  something  over  seven  million  dollars  to  con- 
struct, an  expense  which  was  borne  by  the  State 
of  New  York.  Governor  DeWitt  Clinton  was  the 
genius  of  the  Canal,  and  devoted  his  energies  to 
making  it  a  success.  People  laughed  at  him,  and 
called  the  Canal  "Clinton's  Ditch."  But  he  went 
on,  year  by  year,  with  an  army  of  workmen,  cut- 
ting dow^n  trees,  leveling  land,  blasting  through 
rock,  building  stone  aqueducts  across  streams,  and 
constructing  locks  from  one  level  to  another. 

At  last,  the  Canal  was  completed,  in  1824. 
Governor  Clinton  went  through  it  on  the  first 
boat.  It  was  named  the  Seneca-Chief ,  and  was 
drawTi  by  four  gray  horses.  It  started  from  Buf- 
falo, on  its  way  to  Albany.  The  boat  carried  a 
bear,  two  Indian  boys,  two  eagles,  and  other 
things  representing  the  Great  West;  also  a  keg  of 
water  from  Lake  Erie  to  empty  into  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  so  as  to  show  that  the  w^aters  of  the  two 
great  bodies  were  united  at  last.  Cannon,  sta- 
tioned one  every  five  miles  from  Buffalo  to  New 
York,  announced  the  progress  of  the  boat.  It 
took  eighty-one  minutes  to  let  the  people  in  New 


280  AMERICA  FIRST 


York  know  that  the  boat  had  started  from  Buffalo. 
All  along  the  way,  she  was  greeted  with  the  ring- 
mg  of  bells,  the  booming  of  cannon,  the  waving  of 
flags,  and  the  shouting  of  enthusiastic  people. 
"VMien  the  boat  arrived  in  New  York,  a  great  cele- 
bration was  held  in  honor  of  the  event. 

The  canal-boat  was  a  curious  affair,  about  eighty 
feet  long  and  twelve  feet  w^ide  and  three  feet 
draught.  On  its  deck  was  a  cabin,  in  which  were 
cramped  sleeping-quarters.  In  the  daytime,  the 
bunks  were  folded  out  of  sight,  to  make  room  for 
the  tables  at  which  the  passengers  ate.  It  was 
drawn  by  horses  or  mules,  hitched  to  a  long  tow- 
line,  and  its  speed  was  about  two  miles  an  hour. 
It  w^as  against  the  rules  to  go  faster  than  four 
miles,  for  fear  the  wash  of  the  water,  caused  by 
the  motion  of  the  boat,  would  damage  the  banks. 

Stops  were  frequent,  and  passage  through  the 
locks  caused  much  loss  of  time.  Now  and  again, 
the  passengers  got  off  the  boat  to  look  around,  and 
often  they  were  left  behind.  Then  they  had  to 
run  along  the  banks,  overtake  the  boat,  and 
scramble  aboard  the  best  way  they  could.  In  fine 
weather,  they  sat  in  chairs  on  the  deck  outside 
the  cabin,  and  enjoyed  the  scenery  as  they  glided 
slowly  along.  Small  villages  were  passed,  then 
farms   and   forests.     The   canal  wound   among  the 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  281 

hills,  and  went  straight  across  a  level  area.  Some- 
times, when  the  weather  was  good,  the  passengers 
were  allowed  to  w^alk  on  the  tow-path  by  the  side 
of  the  canal.  It  was  a  slow  but  pleasant  journey; 
fortunately,  in  those  days,  nobody  was  in  a  hurry. 

One  of  the  inconveniences  was  the  frequency  of 
the  low  bridges,  under  which  the  boat  had  to  pass. 
If  a  passenger  was  not  constantly  on  the  lookout, 
he  would  be  swept  off  the  deck  by  a  bridge,  and 
find  himself  in  the  water.  It  was  the  helmsman's 
duty  to  cry  out,  ''Low  bridge,"  and  then  all  the 
passengers  would  either  have  to  duck  their  heads 
or  go  below.  It  was  accounted  great  fun  to  leap 
from  the  deck  on  to  the  bridge,  as  the  boat  ap- 
proached it,  and  then,  having  crossed,  to  leap 
back  on  the  boat  again. 

Thus,  the  boat  went  along,  full  of  freight  in  the 
hold,  and  passengers  in  the  cabin  and  on  the  deck. 
It  took  six  or  seven  days  to  cover  the  entire  dis- 
tance. We  can  cross  the  continent,  or  the  Atlan- 
tic Ocean,  in  that  time  now,  and  go  the  same 
distance  in  less  than  a  day. 

On  wet  and  cold  days,  travel  by  the  Canal  was 
not  pleasant,  for  the  passengers  had  to  stay  in. the. 
cabin,  and  suffer  the  discomfort  of  close  quarters, 
with  nothing  to  see  and  nothing  to  do. 

After  the   coming   of    railroads,   the   Erie   Canal 


282  AMERICA   FIRST 


ceased  to  be  popular  as  a  means  of  passenger 
travel.  It  was  too  slow  and  uncomfortable.  But 
for  freight  it  is  still  used. 


LAFAYETTE'S  RETURN  TO  AMERICA 

In  1824,  Lafayette,  now  an  old  man,  longed  to 
visit  once  more  the  people  of  America,  and  to  see 
again  the  scenes  of  his  youthful  glory.  Congress 
at  once  invited  him  to  be  the  nation's  guest. 

More  than  forty  years  had  passed  since  he  had 
come  to  America's  aid.  The  thirteen  colonies  were 
now  twenty -four  states.  The  nation  was  prosper- 
ous, peaceful,  and  powerful  —  a  republic  of  twelve 
million  people.  Towns  and  villages  had  sprung  up, 
and  even  the  Far  West  was  being  opened  to  adven- 
turous explorers  and  settlers. 

Death  had  claimed  many  of  the  intimate  friends 
of  Lafayette.  Washington  had  been  dead  for 
tw^enty-five  years.  Greene,  Wayne,  Marion  and 
Morgan  were  all  gone.  Lafayette  was  the  last 
surviving  Major-General  of  the  Revolution.  But 
there  were  many  veteran  soldiers  yet  alive,  and 
there  was  an  entire  nation  of  grateful  people  to 
welcome  him  to  the  shores  of  America. 

Lafayette  himself  had  had  a  busy  and  turbulent 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  283 

career  since  his  part  in  the  American  War  for  In- 
dependence. He  had  fought  the  battles  of  Hberty 
in  his  own  country  and  had  for  five  years  been  a 
prisoner  in  an  Austrian  dungeon.  But  in  spite  of 
this  exciting  Hfe,  he  was  still  a  strong  and  vigorous 
man. 

In  appearance,  he  was  very  tall  and  rather 
stout.  He  had  a  round  face,  with  regular  features 
and  a  high  forehead.  His  complexion  was  clear, 
and  his  cheeks  were  red.  He  had  lost  his  hair  m 
the  x\ustrian  prison,  and  wore  a  curly,  reddish- 
brown  wig  to  conceal  his  entirely  bald  head. 

Accompanied  by  his  son,  George  Washington 
Lafayette,'  and  his  private  secretary,  Lafayette 
reached  New  York,  in  August,  1824.  Six  thou- 
sand citizens,  aboard  gaily-dressed  vessels,  went  out 
to  meet  his  approaching  ship.  With  cannon  boom- 
ing from  the  forts,  and  with  flags  flying  from  every 
masthead  and  building,  the  boat,  bearing  the  dis- 
tinguished foreigner,  came  to  shore  while  many 
thousands  of  people  hned  the  docks,  and  shouted, 
"Welcome,  Lafayette!  Afl  honor  to  the  nation's 
guest!" 

In  a  few  days,  Lafayette  went  to  Washington, 
and  President  Monroe  formally  received  him  at 
the  WTiite  House  as  the  guest  of  the  American 
people.     From  that  time  on,  for  more  than  a  year. 


284  A]\IERICA  FIRST 


he  was  engaged  in  a  long  series  of  receptions  and 
ovations,  in  every  state  of  the  Union. 

Having  promised  to  attend  the  graduating  exer- 
cises of  Harvard  College,  Lafayette  started  for 
Boston.  There  were  no  railroads  in  those  days, 
and  traveling  was  done  by  carriages.  His  party, 
therefore,  traveled  for  five  days,  from  early  morn- 
ing until  late  at  night. 

Every  village  had  its  triumphal  arch,  and  its 
procession  of  citizens  and  soldiers.  Over  the  streets 
were  mottoes  of  greeting  to  the  great  friend  of 
Washington.  Music  and  banquets  and  speeches  of 
welcome  greeted  the  party  along  the  entire  way. 

People  gathered  from  many  miles  around,  and 
camped  along  the  road  to  see  his  carriage  pass.  A 
large  procession  of  horsemen  followed  him,  as  es- 
cort, from  place  to  place.  Cannon  were  fired, 
bells  w^ere  rung,  and  bonfires  were  built  by  the 
eager  and  grateful  crowds. 

In  this  fashion  the  party  came  to  Boston;  and 
it  was  thus  the  people  of  the  United  States  greeted 
their  guest  wherever  he  went. 

A  few  weeks  after  his  arrival,  Lafayette  went 
to  Yorktown  to  attend  the  celebration  of  the  an- 
niversary of  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis,  which 
had  occurred  forty-three  years  before.  He  was 
entertained    m    the    house    which    had    been    Corn- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  285 

wallis's  headquarters.  Lafayette  was  provided  with 
a  bed;  but  many  distinguished  persons  had  to 
sleep  in  tents  or  on  straw  upon  the  floors  of  the 
houses,  so  great  was  the  crowd. 

A  laurel  wreath  was  offered  to  Lafayette  at 
Yorktown;  after  wearing  it  on  his  head  for  a  short 
while,  he  gave  it  to  his  friend,  Colonel  Nicholas 
Fish,  who  had  helped  him  take  a  fort  at  York- 
to\Mi.  "You  must  wear  this  also,"  he  said.  "It 
belongs  to  you  more  than  it  does  to  me.'' 

As  these  two  old  comrades  later  on  sailed  up 
the  Hudson  River,  Lafayette  turned  to  Colonel 
Fish,  and  said,  "Nicholas,  do  you  remember  when 
we  were  young,  how  we  used  to  slide  down  those 
hills  in  an  ox-sled  with  the  girls  from  Newburgh?" 

Then  they  fell  to  talking  about  the  old  times 
during  the  Revolution;  often  they  would  laugh 
over  some  remembered  incident,  and  then  again 
their  eyes  would  fill  with  tears. 

In  Nashville,  Tennessee,  the  hero  was  given  a 
rousing  welcome.  In  New  Orleans,  a  band  of 
Choctaw  Indians,  who  had  been  camped  there  for 
a  month,  awaiting  his  arrival,  marched  before  his 
carriage  to  see  "the  great  w^arrior,  brother  of  our 
good  father,  Washington." 

Lafayette  visited  Mt.  Vernon,  the  home  of  Wash- 
ington.    He    went   through    the    rooms,    the   halls. 


286  a:merica  first 


and  over  the  grounds,  with  which  he  had  been 
so  famihar.  He  went  to  the  tomb  of  his  good 
chief,  and  stood  with  bowed  head  before  the  stone 
coffin.  Reverently,  he  kneeled  and  kissed  the  last 
resting-place  of  the  great  man  he  had  served  so 
well  and  loved  so  truly.  Tears  were  in  his  eyes  as 
he  rejoined  his  waiting  companions. 

Many  other  places  did  Lafayette  visit  in 
America.  He  was  present  at  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  the  Bunker  Hill  monument;  he 
visited  the  aged  Jefferson  in  Virginia;  he  went  to 
Philadelphia. 

In  September,  1825,  he  was  given  a  farewell 
dinner  at  the  \Miite  House,  by  the  new  President, 
John  Quincy  Adams,  and,  shortly  afterwards,  sailed 
for  France,  amid  the  blessings  and  prayers  of  a 
grateful  nation. 


OSCEOLA,  THE   SEMINOLE   CHIEF 

When  Florida  w^as  purchased  by  the  United 
States  from  Spain,  there  remained  on  that  terri- 
tory the  Seminole  Indians,  who  had  to  be  dealt 
with.  Naturally,  the  white  men  wished  the  savages 
to  be  removed  at  once. 

They  said  to  the  Indians,  ''We  have  bought  all 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  287 

this  land  from  Spain.  You  have  no  right  to 
occupy  it,  and  we  propose  to  take  it  away  from 
you.  We  will  pay  you  for  it,  but  you  must  give 
it  up  and  go  West,  where  we  will  give  you  other 
land." 

The  Seminole  Chief  replied,  "This  is  the  land 
of  my  forefathers.  We  owned  it  before  the  Span- 
iards ever  heard  of  it.  They  never  bought  it 
from  us,  and  they  cannot  sell  it  to  you.  We  do 
not  recognize  your  right,  and  we  shall  not  move." 

The  presence  of  the  Seminoles  was  a  menace  in 
another  direction.  Escaped  slaves  often  found  their 
way  into  the  Everglades,  and  became  members  of 
the  tribe.  The  men  slaves  married  Indian  women, 
and  the  Seminole  braves  married  slave  women. 
Thus  the  swamps  and  Indian  villages  became 
places  of  refuge  for  slaves,  who  had  run  away  from 
their  owners,  and  who  adopted  the  free  and  simple 
life  of  the  savages. 

One  of  the  Chiefs  of  the  Seminoles  was  Osceola. 
His  wife  was  the  daughter  of  an  escaped  slave. 
She  was  born  in  the  Everglades,  and,  when  she 
grew  to  be  a  young  woman,  the  Chief  married  her 
with  all  the  ceremony  of  his  tribe. 

Once,  when  Osceola  and  his  young  wife  were 
visiting  one  of  the  United  States  forts,  she  was 
seized    and    claimed    as    a    slave    by    her    mother's 


AMERICA  FIRST 


former  master.  The  accepted  rule  was  that  the 
children  of  slaves  belonged  to  the  master  of  their 
parents.  The  half-Indian  wife  was,  therefore,  torn 
from  the  side  of  her  husband  and  carried  off. 

Osceola  stormed  in  his  great  wrath.  He  strove 
with  those  around  him,  and  cried  out  in  agony 
when  he  saw^  his  wife  thus  being  taken  away.  He 
w^as  bound  in  irons,  and  kept  a  close  prisoner,  until 
she  was  safely  gone.  Then  he  was  given  his  free- 
dom, and  told  to  be  off! 

When  he  reached  the  Everglades,  he  assembled 
his  tribe,  and  described  to  them  all  his  wrongs. 
Thereupon,  he  swore  an  undying  vengeance  against 
the  whites. 

The  Seminoles  met  in  council  w^ith  the  agents  of 
the  United  States  to  discuss  a  treaty  Vvhich  pro- 
vided for  their  removal  elsewhere.  Osceola  was 
present,  and  listened  in  silence  to  the  talk  of  both 
parties.  Wlien  called  upon  to  give  his  answer,  he 
drew  his  knife,  and  struck  it  deep  into  the  table 
before  him.  "With  that  knife,  and  with  that 
alone,  will  I  treat  with  the  white  man  for  the 
lands  of  my  forefathers,"  he  said,  and  walked 
from  the  room. 

Thus,  began  a  long  war  between  the  Seminoles 
and  the  white  men  of  Florida.  Many  a  bloody 
battle  was  fought.     The  Seminoles  had  their  homes 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  289 

along  the  edges  of  the  swamp,  and  deep  in  the 
Everglades  of  Florida.  These  pathless  and  almost 
impenetrable  regions  furnished  hiding-places  for  the 
savages,  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  track  them 
to  their  retreats. 

Word  was  sent  by  Osceola  to  all  members  of 
the  tribe  that  any  chief  who  signed  a  treaty  with 
the  whites,  or  who  promised  to  go  West  should  be 
put  to  death.  He  heard  that  one  of  his  Chiefs 
was  more  peaceably  inclined  than  the  others. 
^'Let  him  be  slain  for  his  treachery,"  ordered 
Osceola,  and  it  was  done  the  same  night. 

The  white  settlers  of  Florida  now  felt  the  full 
fury  of  the  Seminoles.  Bands  of  Indians  and  their 
negro  followers  roved  over  the  state  attacking 
mail-carriers,  stage-coaches,  and  small  settlements. 
Troops  were  sent  against  them,  but  what  could 
they  do  against  so  wily  a  foe,  that  fought  from 
ambush,  and,  whenever  pursued,  disappeared  in 
the  swamps  .f^ 

A  body  of  soldiers,  about  one  hundred  and  forty 
in  number,  was  met  by  the  Indians  in  ambuscade. 
All  were  shot  down  but  two;  the  wounded  and 
dying  were  scalped  and  slain,  as  they  lay  helpless 
on  the  ground. 

The  very  same  day,  Osceola  and  a  few  followers 
surprised    General    Wiley    Thomson,    sent    by    the 


290  AMERICA  FIRST 


Government  to  urge  the  removal  of  the  Seminoles. 
He  and  his  friends  were  at  dinner. 

Bursting  in  upon  them,  with  a  loud  yell,  and 
brandishing  his  knife,  Osceola  seized  General 
Thomson,  and  drove  his  knife  into  his  heart. 
Then  he  scalped  him,  and  in  haste,  the  rest  of 
the  party  escaped. 

Thus  did  Osceola  spread  terror  in  Florida.  The 
settlers  became  so  alarmed,  that  whole  towns  in 
the  interior  w^ere  forsaken,  the  people  hastening  to 
the  forts,  or  to  the  coast  for  protection.  Hundreds 
of  United  States'  soldiers  were  perishing  from  the 
fevers  of  the  swamps  and  the  bites  of  venomous 
reptiles. 

Bands  of  Indians  would  emerge  from  the  sw^amps, 
go  on  their  way  of  murder  and  destruction,  and 
then  return  to  the  dark  cover  of  the  Everglades. 
No  white  man  felt  safe;  every  log,  or  cypress  tree, 
or  hummock  of  tall  grass  held  a  lurking  savage  or 
half-breed,  with  murderous  intent,  and  then  the 
friendly  swamps  would  swallow  up  the  murderer  in 
their  dark  shadows. 

After  the  war  had  been  going  on  for  two  years, 
Osceola  came  to  General  Jesup,  Commander  of 
troops  in  Florida,  under  a  flag  of  truce.  But  no 
sooner  did  he  enter  the  conference,  with  the  rest  of 
his  follovv'ers,  than  General  Jesup  gave  orders  that 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  291 

he  be  arrested.  He  claimed  that  this  was  the  only 
way  in  which  he  could  stop  the  lawlessness  of  this 
murderous  Chief,  who  never  felt  himself  bound  by 
any  obligation  to  the  Government. 

Osceola  was  sent  to  Charleston,  and  there  con- 
fined in  Fort  Moultrie.  For  two  years  he  lingered 
a  prisoner,  broken-hearted  and  ruined  in  health. 
At  length,  in  1839,  he  died  of  a  fever,  and  was 
buried  just  outside  the  fort. 

The  war  went  on  for  about  seven  years,  and  did 
not  end  until  all  the  Indians  were  hunted  from  their 
hiding-places,  and  sent  to  new  homes  in  the  West. 


AN  EARLY  JOUENEY  BY  RAILROAD 

Those  of  us  who  travel  on  the  railroad  trains  of 
to-day,  over  smooth  rails  and  in  comfortable  seats, 
taking  our  meals  in  the  dining-cars,  going  to  sleep 
in  berths  by  night,  and  waking  up  for  breakfast 
at  our  destination  several  hundred  miles  away, 
present  a  strange  contrast  to  those  who  had  the 
discomfort  of  early  travel. 

One  of  the  first  railroads  of  any  size  and  impor- 
tance, ran  between  Charleston  and  Hamburg,  S.  C, 
opened  in  January,  1831.  It  was  a  curious-look- 
ing   affair.     The    locomotive    was    small,    and,    fed 


292  AT^IERICA  FIRST 


with  fat  pine,  sent  out  clouds  of  smoke  and   red 
hot  cinders. 

The  coaches  for  the  passengers  were  like  huge 
barrels,  mounted  on  trucks.  The  conductor  walked 
on  a  little  platform  outside,  and  collected  fares 
through  small  windows.  The  rails  were  flat,  and 
the  wheels  ran  in  deep  grooves.  Not  being  se- 
curely fastened  to  the  ties,  the  rails  would  some- 
times curve  like  snake  heads,  and  run  up  through 
the  bottom  of  the  coach,  much  to  the  peril  and 
alarm  of  the  passengers. 

When  the  road  was  opened,  the  stockholders 
made  of  the  event  a  day  of  great  rejoicing,  though 
it  was  cold  and  cloudy  and  the  journey  any  tiling 
but  comfortable.  Great  crowds  of  people  along  the 
way  met  the  train,  and  begged  for  a  ride.  At  the 
end  of  the  trip  the  smoke  had  so  blackened  the  faces 
of  the  passengers  that  they  looked  hke  negroes. 

A  sad  accident  befell  the  locomotive  on  one  of 
its  journeys.  The  negro  fireman,  tired  of  listening 
to  the  escaping  steam,  and  thinking  to  save  power, 
fastened  down  the  steam  valve,  and  then  sat  on 
it  to  make  sure  that  it  was  closed.  The  steam 
mounted  to  exploding  point,  and  the  negro  was 
blown  into  a  nearby  cotton  patch. 

Another  early  railroad  trip  was  across  the  Mo- 
hawk Valley.      On  this  occasion,  the  engineer  wore 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  293 

a  dress-coat,  out  of  compliment  to  some  very  dis- 
tinguished guests  who  were  aboard.  The  carriages 
were  the  bodies '  of  old  stage-coaches  placed  upon 
trucks.  After  collecting  the  fares,  the  conductor 
mounted  a  seat  on  the  tender  of  the  locomotive, 
and  blew  some  notes  on  a  tin  horn,  to  signify  that 
all  was  ready. 

Amid  the  cheers  of  the  crowd  the  locomotive 
started.  The  coaches  w^ere  joined  together  by 
chains,  and,  as  the  slack  was  taken  up,  the  passen- 
gers were  jolted  backward  or  forward,  some  of 
them  being  thrown  from  their  seats.  No  one  dared 
stand  up,  but  held  on  to  the  seats  for  dear  life. 

The  fuel  consisted  of  dry  pitch,  and,  when  the 
train  was  well  under  way,  a  cloud  of  hot  cinders, 
smoke,  and  sparks  came  from  the  funnel  of  the 
engine  and  poured  into  the  coaches.  After  much 
coughing  and  rubbing  of  eyes,  the  passengers  raised 
their  umbrellas  to  shelter  themselves. 

This,  however,  w^as  no  protection,  for  the  um- 
brellas soon  caught  fire  and  had  to  be  thrown 
overboard.  The  passengers,  in  a  state  of  frantic 
fear,  spent  their  time  beating  each  other  with 
handkerchiefs,  hats,  and  canes,  in  order  to  put  out 
the  fire  that  momentarily  threatened  to  catch  the 
clothes  and  endanger  the  lives  of  every  one. 

But  that  was  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago.     To- 


294  A]MERICA  FIRST 


day,  if  the  railroad  tracks  of  the  United  States 
were  put  in  a  straight  line,  they  would  reach  nine 
times  around  the  globe.  One  can  travel  across  the 
continent,  from  ocean  to  ocean,  with  as  much  com- 
fort as  he  can  have  by  staying  in  a  hotel  or  at 
home. 

OLD  HICKORY 

Andrew  Jackson  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
characters  in  American  history.  He  was  born  of 
Scotch-Irish  parents  on  the  border-line  between 
North  and  South  Carohna.  His  father  died  about 
the  time  he  was  born,  and  his  mother  had  to  sup- 
port her  three  boys  by  spinning  flax. 

Jackson  grew  up  to  be  a  tall,  slender  lad,  with 
red  hair  and  a  freckled  face.  He  was  very  wild, 
quick-tempered,  and  mischievous.  He  had  many 
quarrels  with  his  companions,  and  many  fights, 
but,  at  home,  he  was  devoted  to  his  mother,  and 
showed  kindness  to  the  horses  and  other  animals 
on  the  farm.  He  was  a  fearless  rider,  and  all  his 
life  owned  fine  horses. 

When  Jackson  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  the 
Revolution  was  still  in  progress.  The  British  army 
had  swept  through  the  neighborhood  of  his  home, 
and  the  boy  had  seen  his  relatives  and  neighbors 
suffering  and  dying. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  295 


The  local  church  was  used  as  a  hospital,  and 
Jackson's  mother  often  went  there  to  nurse  tlie 
sick  and  wounded.  Andrew  and  his  brother  Robert 
ran  errands  for  her,  and  were  in  and  out  of  the 
church  so  often  that  they  soon  became  familiar 
with  the  horrors  of  war. 

At  one  time,  Andrew  and  his  brother  were 
taken  prisoners  by  the  British,  and  were  confined 
in  the  house  of  their  own  cousin.  The  English 
officers  had  everything  they  wished,  and  one  of 
them  ordered  Jackson  to  clean  his  muddy  boots. 

Andrew  rephed,  *'I  am  a  prisoner  of  war,  and 
not  a  servant  or  a  slave.  You  may  clean  them 
yourself." 

This  enraged  the  British  officer  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  he  struck  at  the  boy  with  his  sword, 
wounding  him  on  his  head  and  hand.  Jackson 
carried  the  scars  with  him  all  his  life.  Robert  also 
received  rough  treatment  from  the  brutal  officers. 

The  boys  were  carried  forty  miles  away,  to  a 
prison  camp,  and  not  allowed  any  food  or  water. 
There,  smallpox  broke  out,  and  both  boys  were 
quite  sick  with  it.  Their  mother  secured  their 
release,  but  Robert,  suffering  from  wounds  and 
fever,  died  two  days  after  he  reached  home,  and 
Andrew  was  ill  for  many  weeks.  Before  he  was 
quite  well  his  mother  also  died. 


AMERICA  FIRST 


At  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  began  to  study 
law.  WTien  he  was  twenty-one,  he  moved  to  Ten- 
nessee, and  became  a  prominent  laA\yer  in  that 
new  and  wild  country.  In  his  efforts  to  preserve 
law  and  order  among  the  frontiersmen  and  adven- 
turers of  that  section,  he  had  many  personal  diffi- 
culties. He  was  hot-tempered  and  a  good  shot, 
and  frontier  hfe  was  rough. 

One  day,  when  he  was  at  a  public  dinner,  some 
of  his  friends  began  to  quarrel  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table  from  where  Jackson  was  sitting.  He  im- 
mediately sprang  upon  the  table,  and  strode  along 
it,  scattering  the  dishes  and  glasses  as  he  went. 
Thrusting  his  hand  behind  him,  he  clicked  his 
snuff-box.  Thinking  he  was  about  to  draw  a  pistol, 
the  guests  ran  out  in  haste,  crying  in  alarm,  '*  Don't 
shoot,  Mr.  Jackson!     Don't  shoot!" 

Once,  when  Jackson  was  driving  along  the  road, 
he  was  stopped  by  some  drunken  wagoners,  who 
told  him  to  dance,  or  they  would  cowhide  him. 
Jackson  coolly  said,  "I  cannot  dance  in  these 
heavy  boots.  Let  me  get  my  slippers  out  of  my 
bag." 

To  this  the  wagoners  agreed,  but,  instead  of 
slippers,  he  drew  forth  two  big  pistols.  Pointing 
them  at  the  wagoners,  he  said,  "Now  dance  your- 
selves,   or    I    will    fill    you    full    of    bullets."     The 


STORIES  Of  our  own  history  297 

wagoners  danced  the  best  they  could,  while  Jack- 
son roared  with  laughter. 

During  the  War  of  1812,  Jackson  did  great  serv- 
ice as  a  soldier.  He  fought  against  the  Indians 
in  the  South,  and  was  prominent  at  the  battle  of 
New  Orleans.  A  band  of  Creeks  attacked  Fort 
Mimms,  in  southern  Alabama,  and  killed  four  or 
five  hundred  white  people.  Tennessee  raised  a 
body  of  troops  to  go  after  the  Creeks  and  punish 
them.     Jackson  was  chosen  Commander. 

He  was  in  bed  at  the  time,  suffering  from  wounds 
he  had  received  in  a  quarrel  two  weeks  before. 
His  physician  ordered  him  to  stay  where  he  was, 
but  Jackson  arose,  put  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and, 
though  almost  fainting  from  weakness  and  loss  of 
blood,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  started  on  the 
campaign.  He  was  gone  eight  months,  and  the 
Creeks  were  severely  punished. 

Once,  during  the  campaign,  some  soldiers  grew 
mutinous  because  food  was  scarce,  and  they 
threatened  to  leave.  Jackson,  with  his  arm  in  a 
sling,  rode  up  to  them,  and,  taking  his  pistol  in 
his  free  hand,  said,  "By  the  eternal,  I  will  shoot 
the  first  man  that  moves."  The  soldiers  knew  he 
would  do  it,  and  there  was  no  further  trouble. 

His  endurance  during  this  campaign  earned  for 
him  the  name  of  "Old  Hickory,"  because  he  was 


298  AMERICA  FIRST 


SO  tough;  and  because,  though  he  would  often 
bend,  he  would  not  break.  In  appearance,  he  was 
tall,  erect,  and  spare,  with  dark  blue  eyes  and 
heavy  eyebrows.  All  through  life  his  temper  was 
fiery,  and  easily  aroused  when  he  was  opposed. 

His  greatest  fame,  as  a  general,  rests  upon  his 
victory  over  the  British  at  the  battle  of  New 
Orleans.  Here,  with  a  force  of  ill-prepared  and 
untrained  men,  he  gave  a  crushing  defeat  to  a 
larger  body  of  splendidly  trained  English  soldiers. 
Over  seven  hundred  of  the  enemy  were  killed, 
fourteen  hundred  were  wounded,  and  five  hundred 
were  taken  prisoners.  Jackson  had  only  eight  men 
killed  and  fourteen  wounded. 

He  became  President  of  the  United  States  when 
he  was  past  sixty  years  of  age.  He  was  always  a 
plain  man  of  the  people,  who  hated  his  enemies 
and  w^anted  them  punished;  and  w^ho  loved  his 
friends  and  wanted  them  rewarded.  He  was  a 
strong-minded  President,  who  had  his  own  way 
w^ithout  asking  advice,  and  often  his  was  a  very 
good  way.  Even  to  this  day,  he  is  regarded  as 
among  the  notable  men  who  have  held  high 
positions. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  299 


DANIEL  \\^BSTER 

Daniel  Webster  was  born  on  a  farm  in  New 
Hampshire.  He  was  the  youngest  of  a  family  of 
ten  children,  and,  as  a  child,  was  frail  and  delicate. 
For  this  reason,  he  was  much  petted  by  his  parents 
and  brothers  and  sisters,  and  w^as  allowed  to  run 
free  in  the  forests  and  fields  near  his  home,  in  the 
hope  that  this  freedom  and  exercise  would  bring 
him  strength  of  body. 

His  mother  and  sisters  taught  him  to  read.  In 
after  years,  he  said  he  could  not  remember  the 
time  when  he  could  not  read  the  Bible.  He  had 
a  very  retentive  memory. 

His  voice  was  musical,  and  when  he  read  aloud, 
he  gave  great  pleasure  to  those  who  heard  him.- 
Often,  the  men  who  came  to  his  father's  mill 
would  get  him  to  read  to  them  while  they  waited 
for  their  meal  to  be  ground.  Sometimes  the 
farmers,  passing  the  house  where  he  lived,  stopped 
for  an  hour  or  two  to  rest  their  horses,  and  then 
they  always  sent  for  the  boy,  and  generally  they 
would  say,  "Daniel,  read  us  something  from  the 
Bible." 

Daniel  had  a  brother,  named  Ezekiel,  two  years 


300  AMERICA  FIRST 


older  than  himself,  of  whom  he  was  very  fond. 
This  brother  always  watched  over  the  delicate  boy, 
and  kept  him  from  too  much  exertion.  The  father 
told  Ezekiel  to  let  Daniel  help  him,  especially  in 
the  light  work  of  the  farm.  Once,  the  boys'  father 
returned  home  from  a  trip,  and  asked  Ezekiel 
what  he  had  been  doing. 

''Nothing,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 

The  father  then  asked  Daniel  what  he  had 
been  doing. 

"I  have  been  helping  Zeke,  sir,"  said  Daniel, 
with  a  smile. 

One  day,  when  Daniel  was  at  the  village  store, 
he  saw  a  handkerchief  for  sale,  on  which  was 
printed  a  copy  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  He  resolved  to  be  the  owner  of  that 
handkerchief,  and  saved  enough  pennies,  to  buy  it. 
T\Tien  at  last  he  bought  it,  he  did  not  rest  until 
he  had  learned  the  whole  great  document  by 
heart.  In  after  years,  he  became  its  most  able 
exponent  and  defender. 

Webster's  father  was  poor,  and  with  but  little 
learning  himself.  He  was  wise  enough,  however, 
to  know  the  value  of  education.  He  told  his  son 
he  intended  to  send  him  to  college.  Webster  was 
so  anxious  to  go  that,  for  a  moment,  he  could  not 
speak  for  emotion.     He  afterwards  said,  "A  warm 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  301 


glow  ran  all  over  me,  and  I  laid  my  head  on  my 
father's  shoulder  and  wept." 

He  became  one  of  the  greatest  orators  this  coun- 
try has  produced,  but,  at  first,  he  was  much 
frightened  when  he  stood  before  an  audience.  At 
school  the  boys  made  fun  of  him  and  of  his  clothes. 
Such  ridicule  caused  him  to  be  sensitive. 

He  said  of  this  time,  ''Many  a  piece  did  I  com- 
mit to  memory,  and  rehearse  it  in  my  room  over 
and  over  again.  But  when  the  day  came,  and  all 
my  companions  were  on  hand,  gazing  at  me,  and 
I  was  required  to  stand  before  them,  I  was  so 
frightened  that  I  could  not  utter  a  word." 

After  leaving  college,  Webster  began  his  law 
career  in  his  native  state.  He  moved  to  Boston 
later  on,  where  he  built  up  a  large  practice.  He 
was  soon  called  into  political  life,  and  spent  thirty 
years  in  the  service  of  his  state.  He  was  a  close 
student  of  the  Constitution,  an  orator  of  tremen- 
dous force,  and  a  profound  thinker  on  all  political 
questions  of  his  day. 

Webster  overcame  the  weakness  of  his  boyhood 
days,  and  grew  into  a  vigorous  man.  His  ap- 
pearance was  noble,  sturdy,  and  dignified.  His 
eyes  were  dark,  and  his  brow  was  massive.  People 
said,  ''Wien  Webster  walks  the  streets  of  Boston, 
he    makes    the    buildings    look    small."     Once    he 


302  AMERICA  FIRST 


visited  Europe,  and  some  one,  passing  him  in  the 
street,  remarked,  ''Surely,  there  goes  a  king."  A 
great  wit,  looking  at  his  dignified  appearance,  de- 
clared, ''He  is  a  small  cathedral  by  himself." 
Some  one  else  said,  ''I  hardly  believe  any  man  can 
be  as  great  as  Mr.  Webster  looks." 

He  is  best  known  for  his  wonderful  oration  in 
defense  of  the  powers  of  the  Constitution  to  main- 
tain an  unbroken  union  of  the  states.  A  great 
debate  was  held  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States 
on  the  subject,  and  against  Webster  was  Robert 
Y.  Hayne,  of  South  Carolina,  who  spoke  on  the 
right  of  a  state  to  declare  null  and  void  within  its 
borders  any  act  passed  by  Congress. 

Hayne  made  a  great  argument,  and  Webster  re- 
plied to  him  the  next  day.  He  had  but  one  night 
for  preparation,  but  he  remarked  to  a  friend, 
"That  is  enough.  All  my  life  I  have  been  mak- 
ing ready  for  this  occasion."  On  the  morning  of 
his  reply,  he  said,  "The  people  shall  learn  this 
day,  before  the  sun  goes  down,  w^hat  I  understand 
the  Constitution  to  be." 

\Mien  he  spoke,  the  galleries  were  crowded,  the 
senators  were  all  in  their  places,  and  every  one 
realized  a  crisis  was  at  hand.  Webster  took  four 
hours,  delivering  one  of  the  greatest  speeches  of 
his  life. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  303 

At  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  Bunker 
Hill  monument,  he  delivered  another  great  oration. 
Thousands  of  persons  were  present,  and  the  crowd 
pressed  forward  so  eagerly  that  they  came  near 
carrying  away  the  platform  on  which  the  speakers 
were  sitting. 

Webster  appealed  to  them  to  stand  back.  *^We 
cannot,  Mr.  Webster,"  they  cried;  "it  is  impos- 
sible." "Impossible!"  thundered  the  great  orator,  "I 
tell  you  that  nothing  is  impossible  on  Bunker  Hill." 

The  people,  moved  by  his  eloquent  words,  rolled 
back  like  waves  from  the  shore. 


HENRY  CLAY 

This  is  the  story  of  a  poor  boy,  who,  through 
his  own  energy  and  ability,  rose  to  a  position  of 
power  and  usefulness.  There  are  many  such  stories 
to  be  told  in  the  history  of  our  country. 

Henry  Clay  was  born  in  Virginia.  His  father 
died  when  he  was  a  child,  leaving  a  large  family 
and  a  small  farm.  The  brave  mother  had  to 
struggle  hard  to  provide  for  her  children,  and 
could  give  them  but  a  limited  education.  All  the 
schooling  Henry  had,  he  gained  in  a  little  log- 
cabin  in  the  country. 


304  AMERICA   FIRST 


He  had  to  work  on  the  farm,  and  to  help  around 
the  house.  This  meant  getting  up  at  daybreak, 
and  gpmg  to  bed  early.  As  soon  as  he  was  big 
enough  to  guide  a  plow,  he  was  intrusted  with 
the  plowing  and  cultivating.  All  this  gave  him 
vigor  of  body  and  independence  of  mind. 

One  of  his  duties  was  to  ride  an  old  horse  to 
the  mill,  with  a  bag  of  corn  or  wheat  for  a  saddle, 
and  to  bring  back  the  meal  or  flour  for  the  use  of 
the  family.  In  after  years,  he  was  called  ''the 
millboy  of  the  Slashes,"  because  the  Slashes  was 
the  name  of  the  district  in  which  he  lived. 

WTien  Clay  was  about  fifteen,  he  moved  to 
Richmond,  and  became  a  copying  clerk  in  one  of 
the  Courts.  It  was  his  duty  to  keep  a  copy  of 
the  records.  Wlien  he  first  entered  the  office,  he 
was  tall  and  awkward,  and  was  dressed  in  a  badly 
fitting  suit  of  homespun  clothes  which  his  mother 
had  made  for  him.  But  Clay  had  a  genial,  sunny 
nature,  which  did  not  mind  what  others  said  of 
him,  and  he  soon  made  many  friends. 

Moreover,  he  was  a  careful  clerk  who  wrote  a 
good  hand.  \A^enever  the  Judge  wished  a  record 
particularly  well  done,  he  selected  Clay  for  the 
job.  When  the  day's  work  was  over.  Clay  would 
go  home  to  read,  while  the  other  clerks  went  out 
for  amusement. 


STORIES  OF  OUE,  OWN  HISTORY  305 


He  now  began  to  study  law,  and  was  soon 
admitted  to  the  bar.  He  felt  that  he  could  be- 
come a  great  orator,  and  made  special  effort  to 
train  his  voice  and  memory.  He  would  read  some 
good  book,  such  as  a  history,  and  then  attempt  to 
recite  the  words  or  repeat  the  sense  of  what  he 
had  just  read.  In  this  way  he  learned  history, 
and  cultivated  an  excellent  command  of  language. 
It  was  also  his  custom  to  go  into  the  woods, 
sometimes  in  his  barn,  and  try  out  his  speeches. 
He  would  select  some  subject,  think  carefully  over 
all  he  wished  to  say  upon  it,  and  then  rehearse  by 
himself,  or  with  only  the  cattle  as  audience.  Thus 
he  acquired  the  power  of  continuous  speech. 

He  organized  a  debating  club  among  the  young 
men  of  Richmond,  and  they  met  regularly  to  dis- 
cuss the  burning  questions  which  were  then  dis- 
turbing the  public  mind.  In  all  these  ways  —  by 
study,  practice,  and  persistence,  —  he  laid  the 
foundation  for  his  great  career  as  a  lawyer  and 
statesman. 

Wlien  Clay  was  twenty-one,  he  moved  to  Ken- 
tucky and  began  to  practice  law.  He  was  success- 
ful from  the  start,  and  had  many  chents.  It  was 
said  that  no  murderer,  who  was  defended  by  Clay, 
ever  suffered  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law.  His 
nature  was  sympathetic,  especially  toward  the  poor, 


306  AMERICA  FIRST 


and  he  was  always  glad  to  take  their  cases,  and 
see  that  they  secured  justice. 

Throughout  his  life,  he  was  most  polite  and  at- 
tentive in  his  manners.  At  one  time,  he  was  riding 
with  his  young  son,  when  they  met  a  negro  who 
lifted  his  hat  most  respectfully.  Clay  rephed  to 
the  greeting,  but  the  son  did  not  notice  the  old 
man.  Clay  turned  to  his  son  and  said,  "My  boy, 
will  you  allow  a  negro  slave  to  be  more  polite 
than  you  are.'^  Courtesy  towards  others  is  always 
the  mark  of  a  true  gentleman." 

So  pleasing  was  Clay  in  his  manners  that,  upon 
one  occasion,  a  political  enemy  refused  to  be  intro- 
duced to  him,  saying,  ''I  am  afraid  to  meet  Mr. 
Clay  for  fear  his  fine  manners  will  change  my 
opposition  to  him  into  admiration  and  support." 

He  held  many  public  offices,  and  served  the 
country  most  notably  during  a  long  life.  He  was 
greatly  beloved  by  the  people  of  Kentucky,  so 
much  so  that  it  became  a  common  jest  to  say, 
*'When  Henry  Clay  takes  snuff,  everybody  in 
Kentucky  sneezes."  But  he  could  not  please  all 
the  time,  and  often  had  to  explain  to  his  people 
the  reasons  for  his  actions. 

Upon  one  occasion  an  old  hunter  became  dis- 
satisfied with  the  way  Clay  had  voted  upon  cer- 
tain measures,  and  declared  he  would  not  support 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  307 

him  again.  Clay  met  him  a  few  days  before  the 
election,  and  said  to  him, 

"You  have  a  fine  rifle  that  has  not  often  failed 
you.  Sometimes,  however,  it  flashes  in  the  pan, 
and  it  does  not  go  off.  Do  you  throw  it  away,  or 
do  you  try  it  again?" 

The  hunter  looked  at  Clay,  and  replied, 

"Well,  I  pick  the  flint,  and  wipe  out  the  barrel, 
and  try  it  again.     Any  rifle  will  flash  sometimes." 

"Well,"  responded  Clay,  "I  am  a  pretty  good 
rifle,  and  if  I  have  flashed  in  the  pan  once  or 
twice,  why  throw  me  away?" 

The  man  agreed  that  this  suggestion  was  just, 
and  voted  for  Clay  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Henry  Clay  always  used  his  powers  of  persua- 
sion to  keep  peace  and  harmony  among  the  quarrel- 
ing sections  of  the  country.  He  tried  to  avert 
strife  and  war,  and  to  be  a  peace-maker.  For  this 
reason  he  is  called  "The  Great  Pacificator." 

He  was  a  statesman  of  rare  courage,  as  well  as 
of  remarkable  power.  He  never  went  against  his 
conscience  for  the  sake  of  retaining  office  or  of 
winning  high  positions.  Once,  when  told  that  cer- 
tain measures  of  his  on  compromising  the  disputes 
about  slavery  would  ruin  his  chances  to  become 
President,  he  replied, 

"I  would  rather  be  right  than  be  President/' 


308  AJMERICA  FIRST 


He  never  ivas  President,  though  he  was  a  can- 
didate for  that  high  office.  But  it  is  to  his  greater 
fame  that  he  would  not  sacrifice  any  principle  to 
win  popular  favor,  or  high  position,  or  private 
gain.  He  was  really  a  great  man,  for  his  policy 
was  to  do  without  rather  than  do  what  he  thought 
was  wrong. 


CHRISTIVIAS  ON  THE  PLANTATION 

In  the  old  days,  before  the  Civil  War,  plantation 
Kfe  in  Virginia  w^as  very  attractive;  with  its  big 
white  house  set  beside  the  road,  and  surrounded 
with  old-fashioned  shrubs  and  great  spreading  trees. 
The  Major  was  a  genial  and  kindly  host,  and 
a  most  considerate  master  to  the  great  family  of 
slaves  that  worked  his  broad  acres  and  loved  him 
and  his  wife.  The  two  were  called  "Old  Marster" 
and  "Old  Miss,"  by  these  faithful  servants  who 
had  grown  up  on  the  place,  and  regarded  the  big 
house  as  their  home.  They  knew  no  other,  and 
cared  for  no  other. 

The  great  plantation  festival  of  the  year  was 
Christmas.  The  house  was  filled  with  guests,  with 
members  of  the  family  who  came  from  far  and 
near,    and   with   the   boys   and   girls   from   school. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  309 

Everybody  was  busy  and  happy  —  from  the  master 
and  mistress  down  to  the  youngest  dusky  "hand" 
that  worked  the  plantation.  All  labor  was  laid 
aside;  the  crops  had  been  gathered  and  stored, 
the  wood  had  been  cut,  the  hogs  had  been  killed, 
the  lard  tried  out,  and  the  sausage  meat  made. 
There  was  plenty  to  eat  and  wear,  and  the  time 
had  come  to  make  merry. 

For  days  before  Christmas,  preparations  had  been 
going  on.  The  mince-meat  was  chopped  for  the 
pies,  cakes  were  baked,  the  turkeys  were  killed 
and  hung  up,  and  the  pantry  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing with  good  things  brought  in  the  great 
wagons  from  town.  The  mistress  had  bought  pres- 
ents for  everybody  on  the  place,  old  and  young, 
white  and  black,  with  candy,  oranges,  nuts,  and 
raisins  in  abundance.  Wagons  had  been  going  back 
and  forth,  the  drivers  laughing  and  happy  in 
spite  of  the  frosty  air  and  heavy  roads,  bringing 
bundles  and  bags  to  be  stored  away  until,  on 
Christmas  morning,  the  presents  would  be  dis- 
tributed. Every  "hand"  on  the  place  expected  a 
Christmas  gift,  and  no  one  was  disappointed. 

In  the  woods,  the  axes  had  been  busy  cutting 
tough  hickory  for  the  big  fires.  Other  wood  might 
do  for  other  seasons,  but  Christmas  needed  the 
sparkle   and   crackle   of   hickory,    with   its   leaping 


310  AMERICA  FIRST 


flames  and  red  glow.  The  wagons  hauled  the 
Yule  logs  into  the  yard,  where  they  were  piled 
for  use.  Then  evergreens  were  gathered  and  holly 
and  mistletoe  and  bamboo  were  brought  for  deco- 
rating the  parlor,  hall  and  dining-room.  Wreaths 
were  made  for  the  windows,  and  bunches  of  mistle- 
toe for  the  chandeliers  and  arches.  The  house  cer- 
tainly looked  very  gay  and  cheerful! 

In  all  this  work  the  young  men  and  maidens 
joined  with  many  a  merry  joke.  Who  would  stand 
under  the  mistletoe  to  be  kissed.^  Who  w^ould 
hang  up  their  stockings?  What  presents  would 
each  receive?  These  w^ere  questions  in  the  minds 
of  every  one.  The  Major,  white  haired  and  smiling, 
was  everywhere,  beaming  w^ith  happiness  over  his 
family,  and  his  devoted  slaves  and  servants. 

And  now  Christmas  Eve.  Snow  was  falling,  a 
white,  fleecy  covering  for  the  ground  like  a  velvet 
carpet.  The  cedars  in  the  yard  bent  beneath  their 
crystal  burden.  It  was  just  cold  enough  to  make 
the  great  leaping  fire  feel  comfortable.  The  serv- 
ants were  busy  in  the  kitchen  putting  finishing 
touches  to  the  pies  and  puddings,  cakes  and  tarts, 
—  enough  to  feed  an  army.  The  house  was  ablaze 
with  light,  and  the  windows  glowed  a  welcome  in- 
vitation to  those  who  might  be  coming  for  the 
holidays. 


^jtuo   vJifff 


"Who  would  stand  under  the  mistletoe?" 


STORIES  OF   OUR   OWN   HISTORY  311 

The  wagons  soon  began  to  arrive,  bringing  the 
boys  and  girls  from  school,  the  guests  to  spend  a 
day  or  two,  or  relatives  and  friends.  Every  room 
in  the  house  would  be  filled  with  a  laughing,  jolly 
party.  The  Major  and  his  wife  stood  at  the  open 
door,  and  kissed  everybody  who  came.  The  serv- 
ants, down  at  the  Quarters,  were  getting  ready 
also,  singing  and  laughing,  playing  the  banjo,  and 
wondering  which  one  of  them  would  be  the  first 
to  call  out  "Christmas  Gift"  to  "Old  Marster" 
and  "Old  Miss." 

Morning  —  Christmas  morning !  The  stir  began 
long  before  the  sun  had  risen,  the  children,  stealing 
like  little  ghosts  up  to  the  fireplaces  to  get 
their  stockings  so  as  to  see  what  Santa  Claus  had 
brought.  Soon,  the  doors  opened  and  shut,  and 
the  cries  of  "Merry  Christmas"  could  be  heard 
from  room  to  room.  Then  a  great  shout  outside; 
the  negroes  had  come  to  call  "Christmas  Gift" — 
a  happy,  contented  crowed,  jostling  each  other, 
every  one  of  them  smiling,  and  anxious  to  be  the 
first  to  see  the  white  folks. 

Breakfast  was  a  merry  meal.  The  presents  were 
distributed,  useful  articles  as  well  as  ornamental 
ones,  the  negroes  bowling  and  bobbing  their  thanks, 
as  they  bore  away  their  treasures.  It  was  the  rule 
for  everybody  to  go  to  church  on  Christmas,  and 


312  AlVIERICA  FIRST 


this  custom  was  sacredly  observed.  The  venerable 
pastor  preached  a  sermon  of  praise  and  thanks- 
giving for  hfe's  many  blessings.  Then  home, 
through  the  snow,  to  a  dinner  which  was  the  great 
event  of  the  day! 

The  table  was  a  sight  to  do  your  heart  good. 
The  sohd  old  mahogany  boards  groaned  beneath 
their  load  of  food.  In  the  place  of  honor,  was  the 
big  "gobbler,"  brown  as  a  berry,  and  stuffed  with 
chestnuts  and  sausages.  There  were  also  a  huge 
roast  of  venison  and  a  big  country  ham.  Every 
kind  of  vegetable  that  could  be  had  was  served  — 
sweet  potatoes,  rice  and  macaroni  in  abundance. 
Then  pies,  cake,  jellies,  syllabub  followed,  and  there 
seemed  no  end  to  the  feast.  All  the  time,  the 
room  rang  w^ith  good  cheer,  fun  and  jokes,  while 
the  Major  and  his  wife  sat  looking  on  —  all  smiles 
and  happiness. 

Down  in  the  Quarters,  the  negroes  were  having 
their  feast  also,  —  almost  as  bountiful  and  certainly 
as  good  as  that  at  the  big  house.  Then  followed 
dancing  and,  maybe,  a  marriage,  to  celebrate  the 
day,  while  they  praised  the  "Old  Marster"  and 
the  "Old  Miss"  for  their  goodness  and  kindness. 

The  day  came  to  an  end  at  last,  as  all  happy 
days  do!  Can  there  ever  be  such  times  as  those 
on  the  old  plantation,  where  a  kind-hearted  mas- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  313 


ter  shared  his  abundance  with  those  he  loved  and 
owned,  and  hved  in  peace,  comfort  and  security 
because  he  hved  in  kindness  and  good-will? 


JOHN  C.   CALHOUN 

Webster,  Clay,  and  Calhoun  are  known  as  the 
great  trio.  They  were  all  poor  boys,  they  all 
worked  on  farms,  and  became  great  by  force  of 
keen  intellect,  hard  study,  and  high  resolve.  They 
lived  about  the  same  time,  and  were  concerned 
with  the  same  great  national  questions. 

Callioun  was  born  and  reared  in  South  Carolina. 
\\Tien  he  was  a  boy,  he  worked  in  the  fields  with 
his  father,  and  listened  to  stories  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, as  the  two  sat  by  the  fire  on  winter  nights. 
From  the  first  he  loved  to  listen  to  the  deeds  of 
great  men. 

He  grew  up  to  be  a  quiet,  thoughtful,  studious 
boy,  fond  of  rambling  through  the  woods,  and 
equally  as  fond  of  reading  history.  The  schools  at 
that  time  were  poor,  and  Calhoun  did  not  have 
much  chance  to  get  an  education.  Besides,  he 
had  to  work  on  the  farm. 

He  spent  his  spare  time  reading  such  books  as 
he  could  borrow  from  his  friends,  or  buy  from  his 


!U  AMERICA  FIRST 


small  stock  of  money.  ^Mien  his  father  died,  he 
took  charge  of  the  farm.  He  soon  determined  that 
he  would  be  a  farmer  for  life. 

His  brother,  however,  would  not  hear  of  this; 
he  wanted  John  to  be  a  professional  man.  Ar- 
rangements, therefore,  were  made  to  send  him  to 
school  for  two  years,  and  then  to  Yale  College  for 
the  study  of  law. 

He  was  about  twenty  years  of  age  when  he 
entered  Yale,  and  he  became  the  leader  of  his 
class.  He  sometimes  would  get  into  discussions 
with  the  President  of  the  College  over  political 
matters,  and  expressed  himself  so  openly  and 
so  ably  that  the  President  became  filled  with 
admiration. 

Upon  one  occasion,  Calhoim  was  asked  his  views 
on  a  certain  point  in  politics.  He  arose  and  stated 
them  so  clearly  and  powerfully  Hhat  the  President 
of  Yale  was  thunderstruck!  He  afterwards  said, 
''That  young  man,  Calhoun,  is  able,  very  able. 
He  will  become  a  great  man,  possibly  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States." 

But,  like  Webster  and  Clay,  Calhoun  was  des- 
tined never  to  reach  that  high  ofiice.  His  very 
greatness  made  him  unsuited  to  the  demands  of 
political  campaigns.  Such  men  as  Calhoun  need 
no  office  to  fix  their  places  in  history. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  315 

After  studying  law  for  several  years,  he  began 
to  practice  in  South  Carolina,  but  he  confessed  he 
did  not  enjoy  it.  He  called  reading  law  "a  dry 
and  solitary  journey."  He  preferred  history,  and 
loved  to  study  and  discuss  the  pohtical  issues  of 
the  day. 

He  soon  entered  pubHc  life,  and  was  sent  to 
Congi-ess  just  about  the  time  the  War  of  1812 
began.  His  associates  were  charmed  with  his 
powers  of  oratory.  His  great  blue  eyes  glowed  hke 
coals  of  fire,  his  hair  fell  m  masses  about  his  broad 
forehead,  and  his  full  voice  poured  forth  a  rich 
volume  of  ringing  words. 

\Mien  Andrew  Jackson  was  President,  Calhoun 
had  become  one  of  the  great  leaders  of  the  nation. 
It  was  the  time  of  heated  agitation  over  the  ques- 
tion of  the  tariff.  The  Northern  States  wanted  a 
heavy  tariff  to  protect  the  home  manufacture  of 
goods,  thus  keeping  out  foreign  competition.  The 
Southern  States  wanted  a  low^  tariff,  or  none  at  all, 
so  that  they  could  buy  goods  anywhere  at  the 
cheapest  prices. 

It  was  a  bitter  controversy  between  the  two  sec- 
tions, and  Calhoun  was  ever  the  leader  of  the 
Southern  States  in  their  demand  for  a  low^  tariff. 
At  last,  when  the  protective  tariff  bill  of  1832  w^as 
passed,   Calhoun  wrote  a  letter   to   the  people  of 


316  AMERICA  FIRST 


South  Carolina,  advising  them  not  to  submit  to  it. 

'^It  is  unjust  to  the  people  of  the  South.  It 
makes  them  pay  high  prices  for  everything  they 
buy.  It  takes  money  out  of  their  pockets,  and 
puts  money  into  the  purses  of  the  Northern  manu- 
facturer," he  argued. 

The  Northern  manufacturers  replied,  ''Without 
the  tariff,  we  shall  have  to  close  our  mills;  we  can- 
not go  on  with  low  prices  for  we  cannot  make  the 
goods  at  such  a  rate.  Our  workmen  will  be  dis- 
missed, and  our  mills  will  be  idle." 

Thus  the  two  sections  stood  on  the  subject  of 
the  tariff.  Calhoun  advised  the  Legislature  of 
South  Carolina  to  nullify  the  tariff  law,  so  far  as 
that  state  was  concerned.  South  Carolina  followed 
his  advice,  and  passed  an  ordinance  to  that  effect. 
Thus,  Calhoun  led  his  state  into  open  opposition 
to  the  laws  of  Congress. 

President  Jackson  was  resolved  to  carry  out  the 
laws,  and  he  would  have  forced  a  conflict  with 
South  Carolina  had  not  w^iser  measures  prevailed 
to  prevent  a  rupture. 

Clay  proposed  a  compromise,  which  both  sec- 
tions could  agree  to,  and  argued  this  remedy  with 
so  much  force  that  South  Carolina  withdrew  her 
ordinance,  and  the  tariff  was  modified.  Thus  the 
crisis  passed. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  317 

Calhoun  was  in  public  office  for  nearly  forty 
years.  He  was  the  great  leader  of  the  Southern 
people,  the  advocate  of  States'  Rights  and  a  firm 
believer  in  the  institution  of  slavery.  He  was 
truly  a  great  man,  in  whom  there  was  no  low  or 
selfish  motive. 


THE  HEROES  OF  THE  ALAMO 

The  Alamo  is  a  fort  in  the  town  of  San  Antonio, 
Texas.  It  w^as  built  by  the  early  Spaniards  for  a 
Mission;  though  the  walls  were  strong  and  thick, 
they  were  only  eight  feet  high,  and  ill-adapted  for 
defense.  Unsuitable  as  it  was  for  warlike  purposes, 
the  Alamo  was  destined  to  be  the  center  of  one  of 
the  most  heroic  conflicts  in  American  history. 

Soon  after  Texas  had  declared  her  independence 
of  Mexico,  and  had  became  a  Republic,  the  Texans 
drove  the  Mexicans  out  of  San  Antonio,  and  took 
possession  of  the  town.  Santa  Anna,  the  President 
of  Mexico,  swore  vengeance  against  the  rebels,  and 
sent  an  army  to  punish  them.  It  would  have  been 
well  if  the  Texans  had  retreated,  for  they  were  few 
in  strength,  and  poorly  provided  with  food  and 
ammunition,  while  the  Mexican  army  numbered 
thousands. 


318  AMERICA  FIRST 


But  the  Texans  were  heroes,  and  had  no  thought 
of  retreating.  When  Santa  Anna  appeared  near 
the  town,  the  httle  force  of  two  hundred  Texans, 
under  command  of  Colonel  Travis,  withdrew  into 
the  Alamo,  and  prepared  for  defense.  The  Colonel 
wrote  a  letter  to  his  friends,  in  which  he  said,  "I 
am  determined  to  sustain  myself  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, and  die  like  a  soldier  who  never  forgets  what 
is  due  to  his  own  honor  or  that  of  his  country." 

Among  the  defenders  of  the  fort  was  David 
Crockett,  the  famous  hunter  of  West  Tennessee. 
He  possessed  wonderful  skill  with  his  rifle,  which 
he  called  "Old  Betty,"  and  rarely  missed  a  shot. 
Besides  that,  he  was  always  in  good  humor,  with 
lots  of  fine  stories  of  his  own  adventures  to  tell. 
No  wonder  he  was  greatly  beloved  by  all  who 
knew  him.  Another  defender  of  the  Alamo  was 
Colonel  James  Bowie,  the  inventor  of  the  Bowie 
knife,  a  terrible  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  strong 
and  resulute  man. 

Santa  Anna  planted  his  cannon  around  the 
Alamo,  and  began  a  steady  bombardment.  He 
waved  a  blood-red  flag  before  the  town  to  show  the 
Texans  what  they  might  expect  if  they  were  over- 
come. Knowing  their  fate,  the  band  of  two  hun- 
dred began  their  stout  resistance. 

At   the   close   of    the   third    day,    Santa   Anna's 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  319 

forces  had  increased  to  four  thousand  men,  and 
the  Texans  were  already  worn  out  by  excessive 
toil  and  watching.  The  end  was  not  far  off.  The 
brave  defenders  knew  that  an  assault  would  carry 
the  fort;  they  were  doomed.  Travis  called  his 
soldiers,  and  assigned  them  their  places. 

"Men,  you  are  worn  out  by  three  days  of  fight- 
ing, with  little  rest,  and  scant  food.  Outside  are 
thousands  of  Mexicans  thirsting  for  your  blood  and 
mine.  They  are  getting  ready  to  make  an  assault 
upon  this  fort.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  fight  to  the 
very  last,  and  die  like  men." 

They  went  to  their  posts,  grimly  determined 
to  slay  as  many  Mexicans  as  they  could  before 
they,  themselves,  were  slain.  All  night  long  the 
watch  w^as  kept  up.  At  daybreak  the  Mexicans 
advanced  with  scaling-ladders,  which  they  placed 
against  the  walls.  Up  these  ladders,  the  Mexican 
soldiers  clambered,  only  to  be  hurled  back  by  the 
defenders  at  the  top.  Again  and  again  the  Mexi- 
cans rushed  up,  and  again  and  again  were  they  met 
with  bullet,  knife,  and  club.  Hundreds  fell,  but 
there  w^ere  still  hundreds  to  take  their  places. 

After  several  hours,  the  defenders  w^ere  ex- 
hausted; the  assailants  by  hundreds  climbed  over 
the  walls,  and  attacked  them  from  all  sides.  James 
Bowie,   too  ill  to  stay  in  the  fight,  had  crept  to 


320  AMERICA  FIRST 


his  rooms  and  his  bed.  Here  some  Mexicans  found 
him,  and  cruelly  stabbed  him  to  death;  then  they 
mutilated  his  body. 

Davy  Crockett  stood  in  one  room,  surrounded 
by  dozens  of  his  enemy,  his  rifle  in  hand.  He  had 
long  since  fired  his  last  bullet,  and  had  brought 
down  dozens  of  his  foes.  Now,  using  his  gun  as 
a  club,  he  laid  about  him,  right  and  left,  felhng 
Mexicans  at  every  blow.  At  length,  the  brave 
hunter  fell,  pierced  with  many  bullets.  Not  far 
away  Colonel  Travis  was  doing  noble  service. 
With  a  dozen  Mexicans  surrounding  him,  he  hurled 
his  great  gun  about  his  head,  and  mowed  them 
down  like  grain.  But  he  could  not  withstand  the 
numbers,  and  fell  amidst  his  victims. 

It  was  soon  over.  All  the  defenders,  to  a  man, 
w^ere  slain,  not  one  being  left  alive.  But  of  the 
Mexicans,  more  than  five  hundred  died  on  that 
bloody  day.  A  thrill  of  horror  went  through 
Texas  and  the  whole  country,  when  news  of  this 
tragedy  became  known.  In  the  subsequent  battles 
between  Texas  and  Mexico,  the  battle-cry  of  the 
Texans  was,  "Remember  the  Alamo!  Remember 
the  Alamo!" 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  321 


SAM  HOUSTON  WLNS  FREEDOM 
FOR  TEXAS 

You  have  been  told  the  story  of  the  Alamo. 
The  patriots  of  Texas  had  still  other  grievances 
against  Santa  Anna  and  the  Mexicans.  The  de- 
fenders of  Fort  Goliad,  led  by  Colonel  Fannin, 
with  over  four  hundred  men,  had  surrendered,  and 
had  been  given  solemn  assurance  of  protection. 
They  were  immediately  divided  into  small  com- 
panies, marched  in  different  directions  out  of  town, 
and  shot  in  cold  blood,  not  a  man  being  left  alive. 
This  was  a  merciless  massacre,  and  infuriated  the 
Texans  still  more. 

Santa  Anna  now  thought  he  was  a  conqueror. 
He  had  dealt  with  Travis,  at  the  Alamo,  and  with 
Colonel  Fannin,  at  Fort  Goliad,  but  he  still  had 
Sam  Houston  to  deal  with.  We  shall  now  see  how 
Santa  Anna  met  his  fate. 

General  Sam  Houston  was  the  leader  of  the 
Texans  in  their  revolt  against  Mexico.  His  army 
was  small,  not  more  than  seven  or  eight  hundred 
men,  and  he  had  to  watch  very  carefully  for  an 
opportunity  to  fight  his  stronger  antagonist.  At 
last,   Houston   took   a   stand   at   the   San   Jacinto 


322  AJSIERICA  FIRST 


River,  and  resolved,  then  and  there,  to  pay  the 
score  for  the  Mexican  outrages. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  enemy  came  in  sight. 
Their  bugles  rang  over  the  plains  as  the  vanguard 
approached,  eighteen  hundred  strong.  They  were 
very  showy  in  appearance,  but  Houston  knew  they 
were  not  much,  as  soldiers  and  fighters.  He  grimly 
watched  their  coming.  Turning  to  his  men,  he 
addressed  them  thus, 

"Men,  there  come  the  Mexicans,  and  with  them 
is  Santa  Anna.  They  are  many  times  our  num- 
ber, but  they  are  Mexicans  and  we  are  Texans. 
If  you  wish  to  fight,  here  is  your  chance  and  now 
is  the  time.  Remember,  it  is  for  hberty  or  it  is 
for  death.     Men,  remember  the  Alamo!" 

His  soldiers  shouted,  "We  are  ready,  and  we 
remember  everything. 

As  they  stood  behind  their  breast  works,  await- 
ing the  attack,  a  soldier  rode  up  to  General  Hous- 
ton and  saluted.  He  said,  "General,  I  have  cut 
down  the  bridge,  according  to  your  orders."  Hous- 
ton smiled,  and  nodded  his  head,  for  he  knew  now 
that  Santa  Anna  could  not  escape  across  the  river, 
should  he  be  defeated. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  the  Mexican  army  halted, 
about  noon,  to  rest  and  prepare  for  the  attack. 
The  soldiers  began  to  cook  their  food,  the  oflScers 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  323 

lay  down,  and  Santa  Anna  went  to  sleep.  Houston 
said  to  his  men,  ''Why  wait  for  them  to  attack? 
Let  us  take  them  unawares." 

The  word  was  passed  along  the  line,  and,  in  a 
few  moments,  the  whole  Texan  army  w^as  in 
double-quick,  headed  for  the  Mexican  camp.  As 
they  ran,  they  shouted,  ''Remember  the  Alamo! 
Remember  Goliad!" 

The  Mexicans  sprang  to  their  arms,  the  officers 
leaped  from  their  couches,  and  Santa  Anna  woke 
up.  It  was  too  late,  however,  for  the  Texans 
were  upon  them.  The  Mexicans  fired  on  the  ap- 
proaching troops  wdth  little  effect.  A  ball  struck 
General  Houston  in  the  ankle,  inflicting  a  painful 
wound,  but  the  old  hero  kept  his  saddle  until  the 
action  was  over. 

The  Mexicans  began  to  give  way  before  the  w;ell- 
ordered  advance  and  constant  fire  of  the  Texans. 
In  fifteen  minutes,  they  were  in  a  panic  of  flight, 
the  Texans  in  mad  pursuit,  filling  the  air  with 
their  cries,  "Remember  the  Alamo!  Remember 
Goliad!"  The  Mexicans  dropped  everything  and 
fled.  Behind  them  they  left  their  cannon  loaded, 
and  their  cooked  food  untouched.  Some  awoke 
just  in  time  to  flee,  not  w^aiting  to  dress.  Others, 
playing  games,  threw"  down  their  cards,  and  hurried 
away  as  the  Texans  entered  their  tents. 


324  AMERICA   FIRST 


The  pursuit  was  kept  up  till  night,  by  which 
time  most  of  the  Mexicans  were  prisoners  of  war. 
Over  six  hundred  were  killed,  while  over  seven 
hundred  were  captured.  Everything  was  taken, 
and  Santa  Anna  escaped. 

The  next  day,  a  body  of  Texan  cavalry,  scouring 
the  country  for  prisoners,  and  especially  watchful 
for  Santa  Anna  himself,  saw  a  Mexican,  whom 
they  called  upon  to  surrender.  The  Mexican  threw 
himself  upon  the  grass  and  covered  his  head  with 
a  blanket.  They  had  to  drag  him  to  his  feet, 
before  he  would  answer  them  at  all. 

He  then  kissed  the  hand  of  the  leader  of  the 
party,  and  said  he  was  but  a  private  soldier.  He 
was  much  frightened,  and  begged  them  not  to  kill 
him.  Noticing  his  fine  clothes  and  jewelry,  the 
soldiers  took  him  back  to  camp.  As  they  passed 
some  Mexican  prisoners,  they  heard  one  of  them 
cry,  ''The  President!  The  President!  Santa 
Anna!     Santa  Anna!" 

It  was  the  infamous  leader,  the  President  of 
Mexico,  who  was  now  a  trembling  captive  before 
General  Houston,  who  spared  his  hfe.  His  capture 
put  an  end  to  Mexico's  invasion  of  Texas,  and 
made  Houston  the  idol  of  the  people  of  that  young 
republic. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  325 


THE  INVENTION  OF  THE  ELECTRIC 
TELEGRAPH 

A  packet-ship,  named  the  Sully,  was  slowly 
making  its  way  across  the  ocean  from  Havre  to 
New  York.  Among  the  passengers  was  a  New 
York  artist,  named  Samuel  F.  B.  Morse,  who  had 
been  studying  painting  in  Europe,  and  was  on  his 
way  home.  He  had  once  been  a  student  at  Yale 
College,  where  he  had  become  much  interested  in 
chemistry  and  other  sciences. 

In  the  cabin,  one  day,  the  passengers  began  talk- 
ing about  improvements  in  electricity.  One  of 
them  mentioned  that  Franklin  had  sent  a  current 
through  several  miles  of  wire,  with  no  loss  of  time 
between  the  touch  at  one  end  and  the  spark  at 
the  other;  also  that  recent  experiments  in  Paris 
had  proved  conclusively  that  a  current  went  almost 
instantaneously  through  a  great  length  of  wire  run 
in  circles  around  the  walls  of  a  large  apartment. 
Morse  listened  attentively  to  the  conversation. 

"If  it  is  true  that  a  current  passes  so  swiftly 
through  a  great  length  of  wire,  why  could  not 
messages  be  sent  over  the  wire  at  any  distance  .f^" 
he  inquired.     The  others  agreed  that  it  would  be 


326  A^IERICA  FIRST 


a  splendid  tMng  if  it  could  be  proven  possible. 
Then  the  subject  was  dropped.  But  Morse  was 
not  a  man  to  forget,  and  he  kept  the  idea  con- 
stantly in  his  mind. 

Day  after  day,  the  ship  made  its  way  home- 
ward, while  Morse  worked  in  his  cabin  on  plans 
for  sending  messages  by  electricity.  Before  the 
voyage  was  ended,  he  had  made  drawings  of  an 
electric  telegraph,  and  had  devised  the  Morse 
alphabet  of  dots  and  dashes,  the  system  used 
to-day  the  world  over  in  telegraphy.  His  plans 
included  laying  the  wires  underground,  afterwards 
abandoned  in  favor  of  stringing  them  in  the  air 
from  pole  to  pole. 

Before  he  left  the  ship,  he  said  to  some  of  his 
fellow-passengers,  ''I  believe  it  will  be  possible  to 
send  a  message  around  the  world  some  day." 
Then  he  turned  to  the  Captain:  ''If  you  ever 
hear  of  the  telegraph  as  one  of  the  w^onders  of  the 
world,  remember  that  it  was  invented  on  the 
Sully''  The  Captain  w^as  more  skeptical  than 
the  hopeful  inventor. 

\Mien  Morse  reached  home,  he  began  to  work 
upon  his  great  invention,  but  progress  was  slow. 
For  he  had  to  make  a  living;  he  was  poor,  and  had 
no  one  to  provide  money  for  his  experiments.  At 
the  end  of  three  years,  he  had  a  circuit  of  seven- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  327 

teen  hundred  feet  of  wire,  and  a  wooden  clock,  by 
means  of  which  he  succeeded  in  sending  sounds 
from  end  to  end  of  the  wire.  But  it  was  not  very 
satisfactory,  and  those  who  witnessed  its  workings 
were  not  at  all  inclined  to  invest  money  in  the 
enterprise. 

Morse  worked  hard  and  neglected  his  business 
as  an  artist.  He  fell  into  abject  want,  and  became 
poorer  and  poorer.  He  often  went  a  w^hole  day 
without  food.  Still,  he  kept  to  his  invention,  and 
did  not  once  lose  faith.  It  is  of  such  courage  and 
endurance  that  success  always  is  made. 

Unable  to  secure  private  help,  Morse  w^ent  to 
Washington  and  exhibited  his  apparatus  to  some 
Congressman.  Then  he  petitioned  Congress  for  an 
appropriation  to  build  a  line  from  Baltimore  to 
Washington,  a  distance  of  forty  miles.  But  Con- 
gress was  slow  to  act,  and  offered  Morse  little 
hope.  Day  after  day  passed,  and  nothing  was 
done. 

Finally,  the  last  day  and  indeed  the  last  hour 
of  the  session  of  Congress  arrived.  Morse,  in  des- 
pair, had  left  the  capitol  building,  and  had  gone 
to  his  house,  the  last  hope  of  securing  any  appro- 
priation having  fled.  He  felt  discouraged  and  dis- 
appointed, and  was  almost  ready  to  give  up  the 
fight. 


328  AMERICA  FIRST 


At  the  breakfast-table  the  next  morning,  a 
young  lady,  Miss  x\nnie  Ellsworth,  met  him  with 
a  smile.  "I  have  come  to  congratulate  you,  Mr. 
Morse,  on  the  passage  of  your  bill.  Congress 
granted  you  the  money  at  the  very  last  hour." 

Morse  was  delighted  over  the  news.  Congress 
had  given  him  thirty  thousand  dollars.  He  could 
hardly  beheve  his  good  fortune.  It  had  been 
eleven  years  since  he  first  conceived  the  idea,  and 
he  had  surrendered  the  best  part  of  his  life  to 
working  out  his  plans.  He  now  saw  success  before 
him,  and  entered  with  renewed  hope  upon  his  great 
labor. 

The  work  was  hastened.  Morse  found  out  that 
underground  wires  would  be  expensive  and  uncer- 
tain; hence  he  used  poles.  The  telegraph  was 
started  from  the  Washington  end,  and  a  year 
passed  before  thirty  miles  of  poles  were  set.  The 
wires  were  tested  as  they  were  placed,  and  Morse 
was  in  constant  communication  with  both  ends  of 
the  line. 

The  first  pubhc  test  of  the  telegraph  was  made 
on  May  11,  1844.  The  Whig  National  Conven- 
tion, in  Baltimore,  had,  on  that  day,  nominated 
Henry  Clay  for  the  Presidency.  The  telegraph 
line  was  still  ten  miles  from  Baltimore.  A  train 
full  of  passengers  started  from  Baltimore  to  carry 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  329 

the  news  of  the  nomination  of  Clay  to  Washing- 
ton. When  they  reached  the  telegraph  wire,  Morse 
quietly  asked  for  the  news,  and  sent  it  on  ahead. 

The  train  arrived  in  Washington  an  hour  or  two 
later,  and  the  passengers  were  surprised  to  find 
that  the  news  they  brought  was  already  old  news, 
for  everybody  in  Washington  had  learned  of  it 
over  the  telegraph!  This  was  a  convincing  proof 
that  the  telegraph  could  be  used  to  convey  intel- 
hgence;    there  was  no  longer  a  doubt  of  its  value. 

By  May  24,  the  line  was  completed  to  Balti- 
more, and  all  the  tests  made.  Everything  was 
ready  for  the  public  exhibition  of  what  the  tele- 
graph could  do;  the  way  was  open  for  sending 
and  receiving  messages.  Miss  Ellsworth,  who, 
more  than  a  year  before,  had  delighted  the  inven- 
tor by  bringing  him  good  news  of  the  action  of 
Congress,  was  given  the  privilege  of  sending  the 
first  message.     She  chose  this  line  from  the  Bible: 

"what    hath    GOD   WROUGHT." 

With  these  words  the  telegraph  was  born,  and 
its  use  was  spread  to  all  lands.  By  its  means,  one 
can  communicate  in  a  few  hours  with  family  or 
friend  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  earth.  The 
happenings  of  each  day,  the  world  over,  are 
gathered  in  the  daily  papers  by  its  means;  busi- 
ness transactions  are  made  in  a  few  minutes  across 


330  a:\ierica  first 


continents,  and  over  seas.  The  telegraph  has 
brought  the  people  of  the  world  into  closer  com- 
munication, has  annihilated  space  and  time,  and 
expedited  the  world's  business  a  thousandfold. 
And  all  because  one  man  conceived  a  great  idea, 
and  would  not  give  up  until  success  had  crowned 
his  efforts. 


THE  DISCO\^RY  OF  GOLD  IN 
CALIFORNIA 

It  had  been  the  dream  of  the  early  explorers  of 
America  to  find  gold.  Thousands  had  come  to 
these  shores  in  search  of  the  precious  metal. 
Many  of  them  had  died  in  their  efforts,  all  of 
them  endured  great  suffering,  and,  in  the  end, 
each  one  of  them  was  disappointed.  For  over 
three  hundred  years  the  earth  kept  secret  its  hid- 
ing-place for  gold  in  the  New  World. 

After  the  Mexican  War,  California  became  a 
territory  of  the  United  States.  Already  a  number 
of  settlers  were  there,  attracted  by  the  fertile  soil 
and  fine  chmate.  Among  them  was  Captain  John 
Sutter,  who  had  moved  to  Cahfornia  from  St. 
Louis  about  ten  years  before  the  Mexican  War. 

Captain  Sutter  had  built  a  fort  on  the  site  of 
the  present  city  of  Sacramento.     About  fifty  miles 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  331 

above  it,  in  1848,  he  was  having  built  a  saw-mill 
on  the  American  River.  The  mill  was  finished 
and  started,  when  the  tail-race  was  found  to  be 
too  small  to  carry  off  the  water.  To  deepen  the 
race,  the  whole  head  of  water  was  turned  on  to 
wash  it  out  to  the  required  depth. 

One  of  the  men,  named  Marshall,  who  had 
charge  of  the  mill,  watched  the  w^ork  of  the  water, 
and  saw  many  shining  particles  lodged  in  the 
crevices  of  the  rocks,  or  in  the  dirt  the  water  had 
carried  down.  Thinking  these  particles  might  be 
gold,  he  gathered  a  small  bag  of  them,  without 
saying  anything  to  anybody  about  his  suspicions. 

As  soon  as  he  could  leave,  without  attracting 
notice,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  to  the 
fort,  fifty  miles  away,  in  order  to  show  what  he 
had  found.     He  asked  to  see  Sutter  alone. 

Sutter  was  surprised  at  the  earnest  manner  of 
his  foreman,  and  led  the  way  into  his  private 
room;  here  he  locked  the  door.  ''\Miat  is  the 
matter,  Marshall.^  Is  anything  wrong  at  the 
mill?"    asked  he. 

"Nothing  is  wrong  at  the  mill,  sir,"  replied 
Marshall,  ''but  I  have  something  here  to  show 
you  that  may  surprise  you." 

He  then  handed  his  employer  the  bag,  w^hich, 
being  opened,  was  found  to  contain  a  handful  of 


332  AJMERICA  FIRST 


yellow  metal,  in  small  flakes  and  little  lumps, 
which  he  said  he  had  taken  from  the  mill-race, 
and  which  he  thought  might  be  gold. 

The  two  men  by  the  light  of  a  candle  bent 
eagerly  over  the  little  heap  of  shining  particles. 
Sutter  could  not  believe  it  was  gold.  Marshall 
declared  it  was  nothing  else.  Acid  was  applied, 
the  metal  was  weighed,  and  other  tests  were  used, 
until  there  was  no  doubt  of  the  fact. 

"You  have  found  gold,"  said  Sutter  at  last. 
"But  let  no  one  know  of  it  until  I  can  set  my 
house  in  order;  for  this  knowledge  will  change 
everything  here." 

His  was  an  idle  request.  The  next  day  the 
secret  leaked  out  at  the  fort,  and  the  news  went 
at  once  to  the  mill.  In  a  week,  it  was  known  for 
miles  around,  and  everybody  was  saying  to  every- 
body else,  "Gold  has  been  found  at  Sutter's 
Mill." 

Sutter's  men  deserted  him  in  a  body,  and  the 
saw-mill  was  left  without  hands  to  run  it.  Every 
settler  and  Indian  in  the  neighborhood  began 
searching  the  streams,  the  gullies,  the  mountain 
sides,  and  the  bed  of  the  river  for  gold  particles. 
The  miners  then  began  to  straggle  down  to  San 
Francisco  with  their  pouches  of  gold-dust,  and  to 
show  them  to  the  people  there. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  333 

This  was  enough  to  start  a  panic  rush  for  the 
gold  fields.  In  three  months  most  of  the  houses 
in  San  Francisco,  and  in  Monterey,  were  shut  up, 
and  their  occupants  turned  in  mad  haste  for  the 
hills.  Sailors  left  their  ships  in  the  harbor,  car- 
penters abandoned  their  benches,  la\\yers  closed 
their  offices,  physicians  deserted  their  patients, 
even  the  newspapers  suspended  indefinitely. 

Everybody  who  could  get  a  shovel  and  a  pan, 
and  a  week's  supply  of  provisions,  was  off  for  the 
mines.  The  people  were  as  wild  for  gold-hunting 
as  ever  were  the  Spaniards  of  former  days. 

The  result  was  that  mills  were  left  idle,  fields 
of  wheat  were  turned  over  to  the  horses  and 
cattle,  houses  became  vacant,  and  farms  went  to 
waste.  People  had  no  thought  for  food  or  any- 
thing else. 

Tents  were  built  near  the  mines,  and  along  the 
river-beds  where  the  gold  was  found.  There  were 
fabulous  stories  of  men  who  made  fifty  dollars  a 
day.  One  miner,  with  a  common  tin  pan,  washed 
out  gold  to  the  value  of  eighty-two  dollars  in  a 
single  day.  A  man  who  made  less  than  ten  dollars 
a  day  was  not  considered  a  good  miner. 

Prices  went  bounding  higher  and  higher.  Flour 
was  worth  fifty  dollars  a  barrel,  a  common  spade 
sold  for  ten  dollars,  rooms  were  rented  for  a  hun- 


334  AjMERICA  first 


dred  dollars  a  month  each,  and  a  simple  two- 
story  house  at  Sutter's  fort  brought  five  hundred 
dollars  a  month  as  a  hotel. 

In  the  meanwhile,  gold  was  found  in  other 
areas.  Every  day  new  stories  were  heard  of  some 
rich  "find"  somewhere,  followed  by  a  mad  rush  to 
the  place.  In  a  few  months,  four  thousand  people, 
half  of  whom  were  Indians,  were  washing  for  gold, 
as  if  it  were  the  only  business  in  life. 

Vessels,  returning  from  San  Francisco,  carried 
the  wonderful  news  to  all  parts  of  the  world. 
Everywhere  was  blazoned  the  story  that  gold 
was  found  in  the  streams,  on  the  mountain  sides, 
and  in  the  gulhes  of  California.  There  was  a 
mad  race  for  the  gold-fields!  Adventures  from  the 
islands  of  the  Pacific,  from  South  America,  even 
from  China,  began  to  pour  in  by  every  arriving 
ship. 

The  news  reached  the  Atlantic  ports,  and  society 
was  stirred  to  its  very  depths.  First  there  was 
wonder  and  distrust,  but  the  stories  kept  on  com- 
ing, until  the  East  went  wild  with  the  fever  for 
gold.  How  to  get  to  California  was  the  one  great 
question ! 

It  was  three  thousand  miles  across  the  plains, 
and  a  still  longer  journey  by  the  Isthmus  of  Da- 
rien,  or  by  water  around   Cape   Horn.     This   did 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  335 

not  deter  or  dismay  the  eager  people.  Ships  were 
fitted  out  in  every  port,  caravans  were  made  ready 
for  the  overland  journey,  and  thousands  of  gold- 
hunters  started  for  the  land  of  wealth. 

In  one  year,  a  hundred  thousand  people  moved 
into  California,  coming  from  all  sections  of  the 
country,  and  from  nearly  all  parts  of  the  world. 


CROSSING  THE  CONTINENT 

The  great  rush  to  the  gold  fields  of  California 
took  place  in  1849.  The  "gold  fever,"  as  it  was 
called  in  sport,  broke  out  in  many  parts  of  our 
country,  and,  indeed  in  many  parts  of  the  world, 
and  thousands  of  people  started  for  the  West. 
Those  who  went  to  Cahfornia  at  that  time  were 
called  "Forty-niners." 

The  demand  for  ships  was  great.  Any  kind  of 
seaworthy  craft  was  fitted  out  for  the  voyage. 
Even  old  whale-boats  were  used,  crowded  to  their 
hmit  with  passengers.  The  streets  of  the  seaport 
towns  presented  an  odd  appearance,  with  men 
dressed  in  red  woolen  shirts,  slouch  hats,  and  cow- 
hide boots,  carrying  rifles  on  their  shoulders,  and 
wearing  pistols  and  knives  in  their  belts. 

Ship  after  ship  sailed  on  its  way  around   Cape 


336  AIMERICA  FIRST 


Horn,  or  bore  the  passengers  to  the  Isthmus  of 
Darien.  Men  of  all  classes  were  aboard,  —  law- 
yers, doctors,  scholars,  clerks,  farmers,  business 
men,  —  for  all  kinds  and  conditions  of  men  had 
caught  the  fever.  Love  for  gold  is  a  magnet  that 
levels  all  distinctions  of  society. 

The  sailing  of  ships  was  followed  by  the  march  of 
thousands  across  the  plains.  Like  colonies  of  ants, 
the  long  trains  of  wagons  crept  along  the  roads, 
crossing  the  dreary  deserts,  climbing  the  moun- 
tains, dragging  their  weary  but  hopeful  freight 
of  human  souls  on  the  long  quest.  It  was  a 
dreadful  journey,  but  there  were  many  at  that 
time  who  undertook  it. 

Generally,  the  gold-hunters  started  out  in  a 
caravan  of  a  dozen  or  more  big  canvass-covered 
wagons,  drawTi  by  teams  of  horses,  loaded  with 
provisions  for  the  journey,  and  with  tools  for 
digging.  The  women  and  children  rode  in  the 
wagons,  while  the  men  were  astride  their  own 
horses,  carrying  guns  and  pistols  for  protection. 

The  caravan  usually  started  from  St.  Louis 
early  in  the  spring,  so  as  to  get  good  weather  and 
grass  for  the  teams.  Months  would  pass,  how- 
ever, and  winter  would  be  on  them  before  they 
arrived  at  their  destination.  Slowly  they  wended 
their  way  along,  the  women  talking,  the  children 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  337 

sleeping    or   playing,    and    the    men    riding    ahead. 
It  was  a  long  and  tiresome  trip. 

At  night,  the  caravan  would  stop  at  some  place 
where  there  was  water.  The  teams  would  be  un- 
hitched; the  horses  fed  and  watered  and  bedded 
for  the  night.  Camp-fires  were  then  built,  and 
supper  was  cooked  and  eaten.  As  soon  as  it  was 
dark,  everybody  went  to  sleep  in  the  wagons, 
except  those  w^ho  kept  guard. 

By  daylight,  the  caravan  w^as  astir,  and,  after 
breakfast  w^as  over,  and  the  sun  began  to  show 
its  first  rays,  the  journey  was  taken  up  again. 
Another  twenty  or  thirty  miles  were  added  to  the 
number  already  traveled. 

Sometimes,  a  band  of  murderous  Indians  would 
sweep  down  on  the  caravan,  bent  on  robbing  the 
wagons,  and  even  on  killing  the  travelers.  Then 
would  ensue  a  long  battle  between  the  men  and 
the  savages.  Covered  by  the  wagons,  the  men 
would  shoot  at  their  assailants,  and  often  drive 
them  away.  Sometimes,  however,  the  Indians 
w^ere  so  numerous  and  fierce  that  nothing  was  left 
of  the  caravan  except  smoking  wagons  and  the 
dead  bodies  of  men,  women,  and  children. 

If  the  caravan  escaped,  there  were  the  bhnding 
sand  storms  to  be  encountered,  when  the  trails 
would   be   covered,    and   the   travelers    would    lose 


338  AMERICA   FIRST 


their  way.  In  this  manner,  many  perished  of 
hunger  and  thirst. 

Then,  there  was  the  danger  from  wild  beasts 
that  often  stampeded  the  horses  or  killed  them 
outright.  Sometimes  water  was  hard  to  find,  or 
the  grass  gave  out,  or  the  provisions  spoiled,  or  the 
teams  died.  Long  after  the  gold  fever  had  sub- 
sided, there  might  be  seen  along  the  plains  aban- 
doned wagons  or  the  skeletons  of  dead  animals. 

But  there  were  thousands  of  caravans  that  made 
the  journey  safely.  After  many  weary  months. 
Salt  Lake  City  was  reached  —  a  new  and  small 
town  just  founded  by  the  Mormons.  Here,  the 
weary  emigrants  tarried  a  while  to  rest  and  to 
recruit  fresh  animals  for  the  remainder  of  the 
journey.  The  Mormons  were  hospitable,  and  glad 
of  a  chance  to  make  a  httle  profit  by  caring  for 
travelers. 

Then  to  the  road  again,  struggling  through  the 
parched  valleys,  where  horses  almost  died  of  thirst, 
and  the  women  and  children  cried  out  in  their 
distress!  Up  the  granite  sides  of  the  Sierra  Moun- 
tains they  went,  almost  dropping  from  exhaustion, 
till  they  came  to  Sacramento  Valley,  and  Mount 
Shasta  burst  upon  their  view! 

At  last  they  were  in  the  land  of  their  dreams, 
the  land  of  untold  wealth  for  some,  and  of  bitter 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  339 

disappointment  for  others!  They  found  San  Fran- 
cisco a  city  of  tents  and  shanties,  scattered  about 
a  few  wind-swept  sand-hills.  Everything  was  rude 
and  disorderly,  and  everybody  lived  in  great  con- 
fusion. Rooms  cost  seven  to  ten  dollars  a  day. 
Food  was  scarce  and  high.  There  were  no  men 
at  work  anywhere,  and  the  few  w^omen  in  towTi 
wanted  exhorbitant  prices  for  board. 

In  this  confusion,  every  man  was  his  own  pro- 
tector, and  he  placed  his  trust  in  his  own  right 
arm  and  quick  fire.  So  long  as  he  was  peaceable 
he  was  safe,  but  justice  was  sw^ift  to  those  who 
broke  the  law  of  the  camp. 

Thus,  the  emigrant  crossed  the  land,  or  sailed 
the  waters,  to  find  the  gold  fields  of  the  New 
World. 


THE  PONY  EXPRESS 

When  gold  was  discovered  in  California,  thou- 
sands of  persons  moved  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  The 
lack  of  mail  facilities  for  these  emigrants  was  keenly 
felt.  At  first,  it  took  months  for  a  man  in  the 
East  to  exchange  letters  with  any  one  in  California. 

In  1854,  it  was  proposed  in  Congress  to  estab- 
hsh  a  weekly  mail  between  St.  Louis  and  San 
Francisco.     The  time  required  would  be  ten  days, 


340  AMERICA  FIRST 


and  each  trip  would  cost  the  Government  five 
thousand  dollars.  Congress  thought  this  was  a 
wild  scheme,  and  so  nothing  was  done  about  it. 

California  had  to  content  itself  with  getting  mail 
by  way  of  Panama.  If  the  ships  were  not  delayed, 
a  letter  would  be  delivered  in  about  three  weeks. 
It  took  so  long  to  cross  the  continent  that,  when 
Utah  Territory  w^as  created,  in  1850,  three  months 
passed  before  the  news  reached  Salt  Lake  City. 

Eight  years  later,  the  stage-coaches  of  the  South- 
ern Overland  Mail  covered  the  distance  of  twenty- 
seven  hundred  and  fifty-nine  miles,  between  St. 
Louis  and  San  Francisco,  in  three  weeks.  The 
fare  was  one  hundred  dollars.  The  outfit  con- 
sisted of  one  hundred  stage-coaches,  one  thousand 
horses,  five  hundred  mules,  and  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  men,  of  whom  one  hundred  and  fifty  were 
drivers.  Letters  were  carried  for  ten  cents  a 
half- ounce. 

It  was  a  long,  tiresome,  and  sometimes  exciting 
journey.  The  mail  was  put  in  big  bags,  securely 
strapped  on  top,  or  in  the  back  of  the  stage.  The 
passengers  w^ere  inside,  while  the  intrepid  driver 
forced  his  plucky  horses  from  station  to  station, 
along  the  rough  roads.  Often  the  traveler  had  to 
hold  on  for  dear  hfe,  w4iile  the  coach  went  over 
ditches   or   down   the   steep   incline   of   the   moun- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  341 

tains,  rocking  from  side  to  side,  and  threatening 
to  pitch  over  or  sHde  down  a  precipice  at  any 
moment. 

Sometimes  it  rained;  it  was  very  cold  in  win- 
ter and  hot  and  dusty  in  summer;  and  the  war- 
whoop  of  the  Indians  suggested  the  possibihty  of 
an  attack  on  the  coach.  Then  again,  the  bold 
appearance  of  a  band  of  highwaymen  resulted  in 
a  hold-up,  while  the  mail-bags  were  robbed,  and 
the  passengers  were  searched  for  their  money  and 
jewelry.  An  attack  on  the  mail-coach  was  by  no 
means  an  unusual  occurrence. 

Horses  were  changed  at  regular  stations.  The 
passengers  alighted,  ate  their  meals,  visited  awhile, 
or  stretched  their  cramped  Hmbs  while  the  new 
teams  were  being  hitched.  Then  up  and  in  place, 
—  the  crack  of  the  whip,  a  whoop  from  the  driver, 
and  the  coach  disappeared  down  the  road!  Three 
weeks  of  this  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  journey. 

In  1860,  a  system  of  carrying  mails  and  small 
parcels  by  the  use  of  ponies  was  established.  It 
was  called  the  "Pony  Express."  The  schedule 
was  fourteen  days  in  all,  by  rail  from  New  York 
to  St.  Joseph,  and  thence  by  running  ponies  to 
Sacramento.  The  little  animals  made  wonderful 
distance,  and  were  very  accurate  in  their  schedule, 
always  arriving  on  time. 


342  AMERICA   FIRST 


The  ponies  employed  were  selected  with  care  for 
their  speed  and  endurance.  They  were  housed, 
and  fed,  and  rubbed  dow^n  with  every  possible 
attention.  Ten  miles,  at  the  full  limit  of  his 
speed,  was  demanded  of  each  little  animal,  if  the 
road  was  bad,  and  more,  if  the  road  was  good. 

Across  the  prairies,  where  the  land  was  level, 
and  the  traveling  good,  pony  and  rider  flew  like 
the  wind,  scarcely  noticing  the  sweet  grass  or  the 
wild  flowers  by  the  way.  Up  the  mountain  sides, 
across  streams,  through  the  forests,  around  sharp 
turns,  went  the  Pony  Express  at  top  speed.  In 
summer  heat  and  winter  cold,  in  rain  and  snow 
and  dust  and  drought,  the  rider  and  his  pony 
made  schedule  time.  At  the  end  of  the  run, 
flecked  with  foam,  panting  with  exertion,  and 
covered  with  dust  or  mud,  but  still  full  of  fire  and 
strength,  the  pony  w^ould  be  rewarded  by  a  rub 
down. 

The  rider  dismounted,  stretched  his  legs  a  little; 
then  he  remounted  another  waiting  pony,  received 
his  precious  bundles,  and  was  off  like  a  flash  down 
the  trail  on  another  lap  of  the  journey.  Thus,  one 
rider  made  several  changes,  and  the  pony  he  left 
behind,  after  its  rest,  was  prepared  for  another 
rider  taking  him  back  to  his  first  station. 

Nearly  two  thousand  miles  had  to  be  covered  in 


STORIES   OF   OUR   OWN   HISTORY  343 

eight  days.  There  was  no  idhng  for  either  pony 
or  rider.  Once  under  the  saddle,  the  httle  animal 
leaped  to  his  course  like  a  fire  horse  to  his  harness. 
The  rider  was  trained  to  the  saddle,  and  could 
ride  better  than  he  could  walk. 

The  packet  of  letters  made  a  bundle  not  much 
larger  than  an  ordinary  writing-tablet,  but  every 
letter  had  been  paid  for,  five  dollars  in  advance. 
There  were  hundreds  of  them,  written  on  the 
thinnest  paper  that  could  be  found. 

Twenty  pounds  was  the  limit  of  the  weight  of 
the  mail-bag.  In  all,  six  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand miles  were  covered  by  the  riders  of  the  com- 
pany, and  only  one  small  package  was  lost.  Each 
rider  was  provided  with  pistols  to  protect  himself 
from  attack,  and  had  to  be  a  courageous,  skillful 
and  trustworthy  man. 

But  the  Pony  Express  never  paid  expenses.  It 
was  operated  for  sixteen  months,  and  lost  money 
all  the  w^hile.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  it  was 
abandoned.  When  the  telegraph  was  completed 
across  the  plains,  the  rate  of  postage  fell  to  one 
dollar  a  letter,  and  the  pony  and  his  rider  went 
out  of  business. 

However,  the  Pony  Express  opened  the  way  for 
the  cross-continent  telegraph  and  railway,  and  was 
evidence   of  how   enterprising  the   early   emigrants 


344  AI^IERICA  FIRST 


were  while  they  were  setthng  and   developing  the 
wonderful  country  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


THE  BOY  WHO  SAVED  A  VILLAGE 

In  western  pioneer  days,  out  on  the  Pacific 
Coast,  the  adventurous  life  of  the  settlers  was  be- 
set with  many  dangers.  About  the  time  the  ''gold 
fever"  struck  the  people  of  the  United  States,  a 
family  named  Goodman,  started  from  one  of  the 
eastern  states  to  find  a  home  in  the  Northwest, 
somewhere  along  the  coast.  The  region  was  in- 
habited only  by  a  few  Indians  and  hunters,  en- 
gaged in  trapping  wild  animals  for  their  fur. 

After  weary  months  of  travel  overland,  in  slow 
carts  dra\^Ti  by  oxen,  suffering  from  hunger,  thirst 
and  sickness,  and  harassed  by  Indians,  —  the 
family  at  last  reached  a  place  on  Puget  Sound, 
and  built  themselves  a  home.  There  were  two 
children,  —  a  little  girl,  and  a  boy  who,  even 
though  only  nine  years  old,  was  quite  useful  in 
helping  his  father  build  the  log  cabin,  and  plant 
the  garden. 

As  the  boy  grew  larger,  he  went  with  his  father 
hunting  wild  game,  and  fishing.  So  that,  by  the 
time  he  was  twelve  years  of  age,  he  could  use  his 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISIORY  34. 


rifle  with  deadly  aim,  and  could  paddle  a  boat  as 
well  as  any  Indian  along  the  coast. 

After  a  while,  other  settlers  came  and,  for  pro- 
tection, moved  in  the  neighborhood;  thus,  after  a 
time,  quite  a  colony  grew  up.  The  Indians  looked 
on  with  distrust  and  alarm.  The  whites  were  com- 
ing in  such  numbers  that  the  red  men  feared  they 
would  be  driven  away,  and  lose  their  hunting-  and 
fishing-grounds.  The  savages  held  a  big  meeting 
of  all  the  tribes,  and  there  w^as  much  pow-wow, 
before  they  agreed  to  make  war  on  the  little  town, 
and  kill  all  the  white  people  in  it. 

The  settlers  heard  nothing  of  the  intention  of 
the  Indians,  and  went  on  with  their  planting  and 
building  and  fishing,  not  know^ing  of  the  deadly 
danger  that  hung  over  them.  They  had  been  kind 
to  the  Indians,  had  furnished  them  with  guns  and 
powder,  and  had  given  them  presents;  they  had 
every  reason  to  beheve  that  the  tribes  were 
friendly. 

One  day,  however,  word  came  that  a  body  of 
Indians  had  appeared  at  a  remote  farm-house,  and, 
after  burning  everything,  had  slain  all  the  inhabi- 
tants. The  next  day,  new^s  arrived  that  other 
white  men  had  been  killed  in  the  woods,  and  that 
the  Indians  had  put  on  their  war-paint.  This  so 
alarmed  the  settlers  that  they  prepared  for  defense. 


346  AMERICA   FIRST 


A  friendly  squaw  brought  word  to  Mr.  Good- 
man that  the  Indians  were  on  the  way  to  destroy 
his  house.  It  was  a  few  miles  from  the  village 
itself,  so  he  hastily  sent  his  wife  and  the  girls  to 
the  hamlet,  while  he  and  his  son  stayed  behind  to 
discover  the  purpose  of  the  savages.  That  very 
night  the  barking  of  the  dogs  gave  warning  that 
the  Indians  were  near.  Looking  out,  the  father 
saw  dusky,  painted  forms,  and  was  greeted  with 
a  shower  of  arrows. 

Closing  the  door,  he  and  his  son  escaped  through 
the  back,  leaped  into  a  canoe,  and  were  soon  be- 
yond the  reach  of  their  foes,  though  arrows  fell 
thick  about  them  as  they  paddled  away.  It  was 
not  long  before  they  came  to  the  sleeping  hamlet 
a  few  miles  up  the  coast. 

"The  Indians  are  coming.  Awake  and  arm 
yourselves,"  they  cried,  as  they  landed. 

Then  commenced  a  great  hurrying  of  men  and 
w^omen.  All  night  long  they  built  a  big  clay  fort, 
brought  water  and  food,  loaded  guns,  and  made 
ready  for  the  attack  which  they  knew  was  not  far 
off. 

About  noon,  the  next  day,  a  fleet  of  war  canoes 
w^as  seen  approaching.  They  came  within  gun- 
shot of  the  village  fort,  and  opened  fire.  The 
settlers  rephed  with  deadly  aim.     The  Indians  were 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  347 

in  open  boats,  and  the  settlers  behind  clay  walls, 
so  that  many  a  savage  fell  into  the  water  with  a 
bullet  wound,  while  only  a  few  of  the  settlers  were 
hurt.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  Indians  decided 
they  had  had  enough  for  one  day,  and  withdrew 
for  the  night. 

They  intended  to  renew  the  attack  the  next  day, 
so  they  drew  off  about  a  half-mile,  to  a  neck  of 
land,  beached  their  canoes,  and  built  fires  for 
cooking  and  dancing.  They  had  a  great  feast  of 
meat  and  corn,  and  then  began  to  beat  their  drums, 
utter  wild  cries,  and  dance  their  war-dances. 

Now,  let  us  return  to  the  hero  of  our  story, 
young  Goodman.  All  day  long  he  had  been  firing 
his  gun  with  unerring  aim,  causing  many  a  savage 
to  fall  from  his  canoe.  When  night  came,  and 
the  Indians  retired,  the  boy  cautiously  left  the 
fort,  and  crept  through  the  bushes  to  see  what 
they  were  doing.  No  one  missed  him,  for  he  told 
no  one  where  he  was  going.  Slow^ly  and  carefully, 
he  crept  nearer  and  nearer,  until  he  was  quite  close 
to  the  dancing  and  howling  crowd.  Then,  he 
formed  a  bold  plan  of  stealing  all  the  canoes  of 
the  savages,  so  that  they  could  not  go  back  to 
the  village.  Besides  which,  the  canoes  held  the 
guns  and  powder  and  much  of  the  provisions 
owned  by  the  savages. 


348  AJMERICA  FIRST 


He  waited  till  nearly  midnight,  then  undressed, 
and,  tying  his  clothes  around  his  neck,  he  waded 
into  the  water  and  swam  until  he  rounded  a  point 
which  brought  him  near  the  canoes  and  close  to 
the  Indian  camp. 

He  was  very  quick,  and  swam  as  silently  as  a 
fish.  Slowly,  he  crawled  up  to  one  of  the  canoes, 
and  cut  the  thongs  that  held  it  to  its  moorings. 
He  was  glad  to  see  it  swing  loose,  and  drift  away 
from  shore.  Then  he  began  to  cut  them  all  loose, 
one  after  the  other,  and  push  them  from  shore. 
He  worked  silently;  for,  if  the  Indians  heard  him, 
it  would  mean  certain  death. 

After  he  had  cut  away  about  a  dozen  canoes, 
an  Indian  came  toward  the  shore,  but  the  night 
was  dark,  and  the  savage  was  tired  and  sleepy;  so 
Goodman  hid  himself  behind  one  of  the  boats  and 
waited.  The  Indian  took  some  food  out  of  the 
canoe  nearest  him,  and  went  back  to  his  howling 
companions. 

In  about  three  hours,  all  the  boats  were  cut 
loose  and  adrift.  Some  were  far  out,  and  all  were 
being  carried  away  by  the  tide.  Goodman  jumped 
into  the  last  canoe,  seized  the  paddles,  and  rowed 
away,  uttering  a  loud  yell  of  triumph  —  for  now 
he  was  out  of  danger. 

The   Indians   rushed   to   the   shore,    but   it   was 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  349 

too  late.  Day  was  breaking,  and  they  could  see 
their  canoes  adrift,  and  they  realized  that  they 
were  helpless.  They  howled  in  anger,  and  fired 
oflF  their  guns,  and  some  of  them  even  started  to 
swim  for  their  canoes.  But  Goodman  was  too  sure 
a  shot  to  miss  a  single  swimmer;  he  lay  flat  in 
his  canoe  and  fired  at  them  one  by  one. 

Howhng  with  rage,  they  gave  up  the  pursuit, 
and,  by  sunrise,  were  on  their  way  home  overland. 
When  Goodman  reached  his  own  fort,  the  old  men 
patted  him  on  the  back,  while  the  women,  with 
tears  in  their  eyes,  hugged  and  kissed  him.  To 
this  day,  they  tell  the  story  of  how  Goodman 
saved  the  village. 


THE  RESCUE  OF  JERRY 

Not  all  the  slaveholders  in  the  South  were  kind 
masters,  nor  were  all  the  slaves  treated  properly; 
sometimes  they  ran  away  to  places  in  the  North. 
Then  the  law  allowed  them  to  be  captured,  and 
returned  to  their  masters. 

Jerry  McHenry  was  an  athletic  mulatto,  who 
had  Hved  for  a  number  of  years  in  Syracuse,  New 
York,  working  quietly  and  expertly  as  a  cooper. 
No  one  inquired  where  he  came  from,  or  how  he 


350  a:merica  first 


had  reached  the  town,  or  who  he  was.  The  people 
were  content  to  let  Jerry  alone,  and  not  ask  too 
many  questions.  If  he  was  an  escaped  slave,  it 
was  the  duty  of  the  officers  of  the  law  to  return 
hnn  to  his  master.     And  no  one  wanted  to  do  that. 

One  day,  an  agent  came  to  Syracuse,  and  ob- 
tained a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Jerry,  declaring 
he  was  a  former  slave,  ow^ned  by  a  Mr.  Reynolds, 
of  Missouri;  and  that,  under  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law,  he  must  be  arrested  and  sent  back  to  his 
master. 

Going  to  his  place  of  business,  the  agent,  accom- 
panied by  an  officer,  said,  "Jerry,  you  are  an 
escaped  slave,  and  belong  to  Mr.  Reynolds.  You 
must  come  with  us  and  stand  trial." 

Jerry  was  struck  dumb  w^ith  astonishment  and 
dismay.  He  thought  his  hiding-place  was  still  a 
secret.  He  said  little,  but,  with  despair  in  his 
heart,  he  laid  aside  his  tools,  and  went  with  the 
agent  to  appear  before  the  Judge. 

The  testimony  was  one-sided.  The  agent  thus 
stated  the  case:  ''This  man,  Jerry  McHenry,  is 
by  birtli  a  slave.  He  belongs  to  Mr.  Reynolds,  of 
Missouri.  He  escaped  from  his  master,  and  has 
been  hiding  m  the  North.  The  law  requires  him 
to  be  returned  to  his  owner." 

Jerry  said  nothing  in  his  defense,  and  w^as  not 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  351 

asked  any  questions.  He  sat  looking  on,  and  not 
very  closely  guarded,  though  his  hands  were 
manacled  with  hand-cuffs.  The  Judge  and  the 
agent  were  arranging  some  papers,  and  were  talk- 
ing about  the  case.  A  young  man,  standing  near 
the  prisoner,  leaned  over,  and  whispered,  "Now, 
Jerry,  here  is  a  good  chance  for  you  to  slip  out  of 
the  court-room." 

In  a  moment  Jerry  had  risen  from  his  seat, 
slipped  through  the  bystanders,  run  down  the 
steps,  and  was  in  the  street  below.  The  crowd 
cheered  him,  and  made  way  for  him.  There  was 
no  vehicle  for  him  to  escape  in,  but  Jerry  was  a 
swift  runner,  and  disappeared  up  the  street. 

The  police  officers  raised  a  great  cry,  and  started 
in  hot  pursuit.  Jerry  had  turned  a  corner,  and 
was  fleeing  as  fast  as  his  manacled  condition  would 
let  him.  He  had  run  about  a  mile,  and  was  quite 
out  of  breath  before  his  pursuers  came  near  to 
him. 

''Stop,  and  surrender,  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you,"  they  cried. 

"Never!"  answered  the  fugitive,  and  made  one 
last  despairing  effort  before  they  closed  in  on  him. 

Jerry  fought  like  a  tiger,  against  overwhelming 
odds.  He  was  surrounded  by  the  police  and  their 
followers,  and  struck  from  before  and  behind.     He 


352  AIVIERICA   FIRST 


was  thrown  down,  and  bruised,  his  clothes  being 
sadly  torn. 

In  this  condition,  he  was  put  in  a  wagon,  four 
pohcemen  guarding  him.  He  was  brought  back  to 
the  city,  and  confined  in  the  back  room  of  the 
station,  under  a  heavy  guard.  The  crowd  of  citi- 
zens outside  watched  the  proceedings  with  ill- 
concealed  anger. 

They  proposed  to  rush  in,  and  rescue  the  poor 
man.  But  one  of  their  number  advised  them  in 
this  fashion: 

"Wait  a  little  while,  and  it  will  be  quite  dark. 
Proper  arrangements  can  then  be  made  for  the 
poor  fellow  to  be  disposed  of,  after  we  rescue  him. 
Stay  nearby  until  all  is  made  ready." 

In  the  meantime,  Jerry  was  in  a  perfect  rage  of 
passion.  He  beat  his  iron-bound  hands  on  the 
table  before  him,  and  cried  out  in  his  fury,  "Take 
these  irons  off  my  hands,  and  give  me  a  chance. 
I  will  fight  my  way  through  all  the  guard,  and 
escape;  if  I  do  not,  you  can  send  me  where  you 
will." 

One  of  his  friends  came  in  to  quiet  him,  and 
told  him,  in  a  low  voice,  that  a  crowd  was  getting 
ready  to  rescue  him  when  it  was  dark.  He  then 
sat  down,  with  his  head  on  the  table,  and  said 
nothing  else. 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  353 

About  thirty  picked  men  met  outside,  and 
planned  how  to  effect  the  escape  of  the  prisoner. 
They  did  not  sympathize  with  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law,  and  were  anxious  to  give  Jerry  a  chance  to 
get  away.  All  arrangements  were  carefully  made. 
At  a  given  signal,  the  doors  and  windows  were 
smashed  in,  and  the  rescuers  rushed  into  the  room. 
The  officers  were  seized  and  held.  There  was 
little  opposition,  for  the  crowd  was  so  determined 
that  any  show  of  force  would  have  been  useless. 

Several  men  seized  Jerry  in  their  arms,  and 
bore  him  outside  to  a  waiting  buggy,  to  which  a 
swift  horse  was  hitched  and  where  a  willing  driver 
sat  ready. 

"Now,  go  for  your  life,"  was  the  order,  and 
the  horse  started  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  driver 
managed  to  escape  all  followers,  and,  after  about 
an  hour's  journey,  he  delivered  Jerry  into  the 
hands  of  a  kind  woman,  who  gave  him  shelter  for 
the  night.  His  pursuers  were  off  the  track,  and 
Jerry  was  safe  for  a  while. 

After  a  day  or  two,  a  covered  wagon,  with  a 
pair  of  fleet  horses,  w^as  seen  standing  in  front  of 
the  house  where  Jerry  had  found  lodging.  An  old 
and  infirm  man  was  noticed  coming  out  of  the 
house  and  getting  into  the  vehicle,  which  started 
off  at  a  rapid  rate. 


354,  AMERICA   FIRST 


Several  persons  saw  the  unusual  sight,  and  told 
the  police  that  they  were  suspicious  of  the  old 
man,  and  thought  he  might  be  Jerry.  The  police 
at  once  started  in  chase.  The  pursuit  lasted  for 
a  short  while,  but  they  were  not  very  eager  to 
capture  their  former  prisoner,  and  did  not  go  very  far. 
After  ten  miles,  they  gave  up  and  returned  to  town. 

The  supposed  old  man  was  in  reality  Jerry,  who 
was  making  his  way  into  Canada.  There,  no  per- 
son could  be  held  as  a  slave,  and,  once  there,  all 
fugitives  were  safe.  In  fact,  there  were  many 
provisions  made  for  helping  escaped  slaves  get  over 
the  border  into  Canada. 

After  several  days,  Jerry  and  his  rescuers  came 
to  one  of  the  Great  Lakes,  where  a  friendly  Cap- 
tain took  him  on  board  a  boat.  At  dark,  the 
boat  sailed  across  the  Lake,  and  Jerry  was  landed 
in  Canada,  where  he  soon  established  himself 
again  in  business  as  a  cooper. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Lincoln  was  born  in  a  cabin,  in  a  dreary  region 
of  the  state  of  Kentucky.  It  was  a  one-room 
house,  about  fourteen  feet  square,  built  of  logs. 
In    this    one    room    the    family    cooked,    ate,    and 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  355 

slept.  Very  few  children  have  started  life  in  so 
poor  and  barren  a  home  as  did  Abraham  Lincoln. 

When  he  was  seven  years  old,  his  parents  moved 
to  Indiana,  into  a  wild  and  wooded  region,  and 
there  built  a  rude  place  to  live  in.  It  was  still 
a  cabin,  with  the  roughest  of  furniture.  A  log, 
smoothed  on  one  side,  was  used  as  a  table.  The 
bedsteads  were  made  of  poles,  fastened  to  the 
walls.  The  chairs  were  blocks  of  wood.  All 
the  cooking  was  done  in  the  jBreplace. 

Here,  Lincoln  spent  his  childhood  in  toil  and 
hardship.  The  family  was  poor,  and  every  mem- 
ber had  to  do  hard  work  on  the  farm.  After 
laboring  all  day,  the  young  boy  would  often  lie 
down  before  the  fireplace,  and  read  by  the  light 
of  the  burning  fire.  Then,  when  too  tired  to  read 
any  more,  he  would  climb  a  ladder,  made  of  pegs 
driven  into  the  wall,  and  go  to  sleep  in  the  loft 
on  a  pallet  of  straw,  covered  with  skins. 

He  had  but  little  chance  to  get  an  education. 
He  did  not  go  to  school  more  than  a  year,  all 
told,  and  had  very  poor  teachers.  But  he  learned 
to  read  such  books  as  "^sop's  Fables,"  "The 
Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  the  Bible. 

He  borrowed  the  ''Life  of  Washington"  from  a 
neighbor,  and  sat  up  far  into  the  night  reading  it. 
He  kept  it  in  a  crevice  in  the  wall,  near  his  bed. 


356  AMERICA  FIRST 


for  safety.  One  night  it  rained,  and  he  found  the 
book  soaked  through  and  through.  The  owner 
made  him  work  three  days  to  pay  for  it,  and  then  let 
him  have  it.     It  was  the  first  book  the  boy  owned. 

He  w^as  accustomed  to  hear  every  preacher  and 
stump  orator  that  came  into  his  neighborhood. 
Once,  he  walked  fourteen  miles  to  hear  a  trial  in 
Court.  When  one  of  the  lawyers  finished  his 
speech,  Lincoln  walked  across  the  room  in  his 
bare  feet,  with  his  trousers  rolled  up,  and  said 
quite  audibly,  *'I  want  to  shake  your  hand.  That 
is  the  best  speech  I  ever  heard."  Years  after, 
when  Lincoln  was  President,  the  la\\'yer,  grown 
old  and  feeble,  came  to  the  White  House  and  re- 
minded him  of  the  incident. 

"NMien  Lincoln  w^as  about  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  his  father  and  two  of  his  neighbors  moved  to 
Illinois.  Through  mud  and  water,  and  over  rough 
roads,  Lincoln  walked  all  the  way,  driving  an  ox- 
team.  They  settled  about  ten  miles  from  Decatur, 
and  started  life  afresh. 

Lincoln  aided  in  clearing  the  land,  and  he  fenced 
it  with  rails.  He  helped  build  the  cabins  and  plant 
the  spring  crops.  Though  he  was  of  age,  and 
could  have  done  as  he  pleased,  he  stayed  with 
the  family  until  they  had  started  in  their  new 
surroundings. 


STORIES   OF   OUR   OWN   HISTORY  357 

He  needed  some  clothes,  for  he  still  wore  the 
buckskins  of  the  frontier.  He  bargained  with  a 
neighbor  to  make  him  a  pair  of  trousers  out  of 
brown  jeans,  dyed  with  white  walnut  bark,  agree- 
ing to  split  rails  in  payment.  He  had  to  split 
fourteen  hundred  rails  before  the  trousers  were 
paid  for. 

Lincoln  was  now  a  grown  man,  six  feet  and  four 
inches  tall,  spare  of  frame,  but  muscular,  and  in 
perfect  health.  He  was  much  beloved  by  the 
community  in  which  he  lived,  and  w^as  popular 
with  his  companions.  He  could  out-run,  out- 
jump,  and  out-wrestle  anybody  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. And,  as  a  rail-splitter,  nobody  could  approach 
him  in  the  number  he  could  split  a  day. 

For  he  had  precision  and  power  with  a  sharp 
ax.  Every  blow  fell  in  the  right  place,  and  with 
great  force.  To  see  him  cut  down  a  large  tree, 
and  split  it  into  rails,  was  to  witness  an  exhibition 
of  rare  skill. 

He  was  also  a  good  story-teller.  All  his  life 
he  had  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  funny  stories 
to  fit  any  occasion.  He  gained  a  reputation  for 
honesty  and  square  dealing  in  all  his  business 
transactions.  That  is  why  he  w^as  called  "Honest 
Abe." 

One  day,  a  w^oman  came  into  the  store  where 


358  AMERICA   FIRST 


Lincoln  was  engaged  as  clerk.  After  she  liad  gone, 
he  noticed  that  she  had  given  him  six  cents  too 
much.  That  night,  after  his  job  was  finished,  he 
walked  five  miles  to  the  woman's  house  to  return 
her  the  money. 

By  dint  of  hard  study  and  hard  work,  Lincoln 
began  to  be  a  leader  in  the  town  of  New  Salem, 
where  he  was  employed.  He  studied  law,  was 
admitted  to  the  bar,  and  was  elected  to  the  Legis- 
lature. He  was  sent  to  Congress,  and  was  a  can- 
didate for  the  United  States  Senate. 

As  a  lawyer,  he  was  very  shrewd  and  successful. 
Upon  one  occasion  he  defended  the  son  of  a  poor 
woman,  who  was  accused  of  murdering  a  man  at 
night.  Lincoln  was  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that 
the  boy  was  innocent.  The  trial  began,  and  the 
witnesses  were  called. 

The  chief  witness  said,  ''I  saw  him  strike  the 
man  and  kill  him." 

Lincoln  inquired,  '*What  time  was  it  when  you 
saw  him.^" 

''It  was  about  eleven  o'clock,"  the  witness 
replied. 

"How  could  you  see  so  well  at  night. '^"  asked 
the  lawyer. 

The  man  replied,  "The  moon  was  shining,  and  I 
could  easily  see  by  its  light." 


STORIES   OF   OUR  OWN   HISTORY  359 

Lincoln  sent  for  an  almanac,  and  showed  the 
jury  that  there  was  no  moon  shining  on  that  night, 
whereupon  the  witness  retired  in  confusion,  and  the 
man  was  acquitted  of  the  crime. 

In  after  years,  Lincoln  was  President  of  the 
United  States,  during  the  trying  period  of  the 
Civil  War.  His  was  a  deep  responsibility,  and  he 
felt  the  burden  of  saving  the  Union  very  keenly. 

He  was  a  man  of  strong  convictions  and  of  great 
firmness.  He  was  cast  by  nature  in  a  heroic  mold, 
yet  he  was  always  sympathetic  and  tender  in  his 
dealings  w^ith  men.  His  disposition  w^as  melan- 
choly, in  spite  of  his  humor,  and  he  brooded  deeply 
over  the  welfare  of  the  country.  His  great  hope 
was  to  save  the  Union  at  any  cost,  and  it  grieved 
him  profoundly  to  see  the  Southern  States  secede. 


ROBERT  E.  LEE 

Robert  E.  Lee  was  the  son  of  General  Henry 
Lee,  a  hero  of  the  Revolution,  known  as  "Light 
Horse  Harry."  He  was  born  in  Virginia.  He  was 
no  more  than  a  mere  boy,  when  his  father  died, 
leaving  him  to  the  training  of  a  devoted  mother. 
When  Robert  was  not  at  school,  he  spent  his  time 
with  her,   helping  her  to  keep  house,   taking  her 


360  A^^IERICA  FIRST 


out  to  ride  in  the  old  family  coach,  and  reading 
aloud  the  books  she  liked  to  hear. 

Some  days,  however,  he  spent  in  hunting,  of 
which  he  was  very  fond.  Then  he  would  ride  all 
day  with  his  hounds,  or  tramp  for  hours  through 
the  woods  looking  for  game.  In  this  way,  he 
developed  the  splendid  strength  that  never  failed 
him  in  his  after  life. 

\Mien  he  was  eighteen  years  old,  he  went  to 
West  Point  to  be  trained  as  a  soldier.  He  was 
there  for  four  years,  and  never  received  a  demerit. 
He  was  a  model  cadet.  His  clothes  were  always 
clean  and  well  cared  for.  His  gun,  belt,  and  sw^ord 
were  as  bright  as  they  could  be  polished.  His 
lessons  were  studiously  prepared.  So  good  a  rec- 
ord did  he  make  that  he  graduated  second  in  his 
class. 

Like  many  great  men,  Lee  was  always  gentle, 
generous,  and  good.  He  was  simple  in  his  habits, 
never  using  tobacco  nor  any  intoxicating  liquors. 
Upon  one  occasion,  a  lady  gave  him  a  bottle  of 
whisky  to  use,  if  he  "ever  needed  it."  Lee  took 
it  with  him  through  the  Mexican  War,  and  then 
sent  it  back  to  his  friend,  saying,  ''I  have  gotten 
along  very  well  without  it,  and  am  returning  it  to 
you,  for  I  have  never  found  that  I  really  needed 
it." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  361 

Lee  served  as  a  Captain  of  Engineers  during  the 
War  with  Mexico.  It  was  his  duty  to  make  roads 
and  bridges,  to  plant  big  guns,  to  draw  maps,  and 
to  direct  the  marches  of  the  fighting  men.  He 
was  with  General  Scott  in  all  the  big  battles,  and 
w^as  of  such  assistance  that  that  General  said, 
''Lee  is  the  greatest  soldiar  I  have  ever  known." 

In  after  years,  General  Scott  said,  ''If  I  knew 
that  a  battle  was  to  be  fought  for  my  country, 
and  the  president  were  to  say  to  me,  'Scott,  who 
shall  be  my  commander.^'  I  would  say  'Robert  E. 
Lee!     Nobody  but  Robert  E.  Lee.'" 

In  Mexico,  while  the  battle  of  Cerro  Gordo  was 
raging,  Captain  Lee  heard  the  cries  of  a  little  girl, 
and,  following  the  sound,  found  a  Mexican  drum- 
mer-boy badly  wounded,  and  lying  on  the  ground 
with  a  big  Mexican  soldier,  who  had  been  shot, 
fallen  on  top  of  him.  Lee  stopped,  had  the  Mexi- 
can thrown  off  the  boy's  body,  and  the  little  fellow 
taken  to  a  place  of  safety. 

His  small  sister  stood  by,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
her  hands  crossed  over  her  breast.  Her  feet  and 
arms  were  bare,  and  her  hair  hung  down  in  a  long 
plait  to  her  waist.  She  looked  up  into  the  kind 
face  of  Captain  Lee,  and  said,  in  her  own  language, 
"I  am  very  grateful,  kind  sir.  May  God  bless  you 
for  saving  my  brother." 


362  AMERICA   FIRST 


Once,  on  a  long  march,  a  part  of  Scott's  army 
had  lost  its  way.  General  Scott  sent  seven  en- 
gineers to  guide  the  men  into  the  right  road. 
They  had  to  cross  a  huge  bed  of  lava  and  rocks. 
Six  of  the  engineers  came  back,  and  said  they 
could  not  get  across.  Captain  Lee,  however,  on 
foot,  and  alone,  pressed  on  through  darkness  and 
danger,  and  brought  the  men  out  in  safety. 
General  Scott  said,  "It  was  the  greatest  feat 
done  by  any  one  man  during  the  war." 

WTien  the  Civil  War  came  on,  Lee  resigned  from 
the  United  States  Army  to  fight  for  Virginia  and 
the  South.  He  was  offered  the  chief  command  of 
the  Union  forces,  if  he  would  remain  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  United  States.  He  said  to  Mr.  Blair, 
,who  came  to  offer  him  this  command, 

''If  I  owned  the  four  miUions  of  slaves  in  the 
South,  I  would  give  them  all  up  to  save  the 
Union,  but  how  can  I  draw  my  sword  upon  Vir- 
ginia, my  native  State?" 

After  the  war  had  been  going  on  for  nearly  a 
year,  Lee  became  the  commanding  General  of  all 
the  Confederate  Army.  His  soldiers  were  de- 
votedly attached  to  him,  and  had  supreme  con- 
fidence in  his  abihty.  They  referred  to  him 
affectionately  as  "Marse  Robert." 

On  one  occasion,  General  Lee  placed  himself  at 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  fflSTORY  363 


the  head  of  a  body  of  Texas  troops,  and,  waving 
his  sword,  ordered  them  to  follow  him  into  battle. 
The  situation  was  critical,  and  Lee  wanted  to  save 
the  day. 

But  the  soldiers  would  not  move.  They  cried 
out,  "Lee  to  the  rear!  Lee  to  the  rear."  One  of 
his  Generals  rode  up  and,  taking  his  horse  by  the 
bridle,  said,  "General  Lee,  there  are  Georgians  and 
Texans  here  willing  to  charge,  but  unwilling  to  see  you 
in  danger.  If  you  will  go  back,  we  will  go  forward." 
To  this  Lee  repHed,  "You  are  brave  men,  and 
do  not  need  me";  and,  turning  his  horse's  head, 
he  rode  back  of  the  charging  lines. 

An  old  soldier  relates  that  one  day  he  was  in 
the  trenches,  when  a  big  gun  was  ready  to  be 
fired.  Lee  came  in,  and  walked  about,  asking 
after  the  men  and  speaking  words  of  cheer.  Ap- 
proaching the  big  gun,  he  asked  an  ofiicer  to  fire 
it  that  he  might  see  the  result.  The  officer  hesi- 
tated, and  said, 

"If  I  fire  this  gun,  the  enemy  will  return  the 
fire  at  once  in  great  force.  Some  of  us  will  be 
killed,  but  that  does  not  matter  so  long  as  you 
are  not  here.  You  might  get  hurt.  If  you  will 
retire  out  of  danger,  I  shall  fire  it  as  long  as  you 
order,  but  I  beg  you  not  to  have  it  fired  while 
you  are  here." 


364  a:merica  first 


Lee  was  greatly  touched  by  this  devotion,  and 
did  not  insist  upon  the  big  gun  going  into  action 
while  he  was  present. 

General  Lee  ever  felt  kindly  toward  Union  sol- 
diers. He  never  called  them  "the  enemy,"  but 
always  spoke  of  them  as  "those  people."  Once, 
he  remarked  about  the  Northern  troops,  "Now,  I 
w^ish  all  those  people  would  go  home  and  leave  us 
to  do  the  same." 

A  lady,  who  had  lost  her  husband  in  the  war, 
spoke  in  sharp  terms  of  the  North,  one  day,  to 
General  Lee.  He  said  gently,  "Madam,  do  not 
train  up  your  children  as  foes  of  the  Government 
of  the  United  States.  We  are  one  country  now. 
Bring  them  up  to  be  Americans." 

Throughout  his  life,  he  had  but  one  purpose, 
and  that  was  to  do  his  duty.  He  often  said, 
"Duty  is  the  sublimest  word  in  the  English  lan- 
guage," and,  in  accordance  with  this  belief,  he 
regulated  his  great  life  upon  what  seemed  to  him 
to  be  the  only  course  he  ought  to  pursue  at  the 
time. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  365 


STONEWALL  JACKSON 

His  real  name  was  Thomas  Jonathan  Jackson, 
and  he  was  born  in  what  is  now  West  Virginia,  of 
poor  parents  who  had  to  work  hard  for  a  Hving. 
His  father  died  when  he  was  three  years  old,  leav- 
ing his  mother  to  support  three  little  children. 
They  all  lived  in  one  room,  where  the  mother 
taught  a  little  school,  and  did  sewing  for  her 
friends  and  neighbors. 

Thomas  grew  up  rosy-cheeked  and  blue-eyed, 
with  waving  brown  hair,  very  determined  to  have 
his  way,  and  full  of  confidence  in  himself.  Fortu- 
nately, his  way  was  a  good  one,  and,  from  the 
start,  he  was  a  very  dependable  boy. 

He  was  fond  of  arithmetic,  and  easily  learned  all 
the  hard  rules  and  could  work  any  of  the  problems 
given  him.  His  other  studies  were  not  so  easy, 
but  he  never  stopped  anything  he  had  once  started, 
until  he  had  mastered  it,  or  it  had  mastered  him. 
One  of  the  maxims  of  his  life  was,  "You  may  be 
whatever  you  resolve  to  be." 

He  gained  a  reputation  for  telling  the  exact 
truth.  At  one  time,  he  walked  a  mile  in  the  rain 
to  correct  a  statement  he  had  made. 


366  AMERICA   FIRST 


'*Why  do  you  go  to  so  much  trouble  for  such  a 
mere  trifle  as  that?"  some  one  asked  him  on  his 
return. 

He  answered,  ''Simply  because  I  found  out  that 
what  I  said  was  not  true,  and  I  never  carry  any- 
thing to  bed  with  me  that  will  rob  me  of  sleep." 

He  was  a  leader  in  sports,  particularly  in  climb- 
ing and  jumping.  He  was  generally  selected  as 
Captain  of  one  side,  and  this  was  the  side  that 
nearly  always  w^on,  for  he  was  a  master  of  strateg}^ 
in  games. 

At  eighteen,  he  resolved  to  be  a  soldier.  Dressed 
in  a  plain  homespun  suit  and  carrying  his  clothes 
in  a  saddle-bag,  he  rode  into  Washington,  and 
asked  to  be  made  a  cadet  at  West  Point,  the 
military  academy  of  the  nation.  He  received 
the    appointment. 

His  appearance  caused  much  sport  among  the 
students  there,  for  he  was  aw^kward  and  ill  at 
ease,  but  always  good-natured.  It  was  not  long 
before  his  ability  to  master  his  studies,  however, 
made  him  sought  after  by  others,  and  he  soon  won 
admiration  and  respect. 

From  early  life,  he  was  very  religious.  He 
taught  in  the  Sunday-school,  and  even  gathered 
the  slaves  of  his  town  together  every  Sunday 
afternoon,  and  made  them  familiar  with  the  truths 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  3G7 

of  the  Bible.  Later  on,  when  he  had  become  a 
great  soldier,  it  was  his  habit  to  go  ofl  to  a  quiet 
place,  and  pray  before  a  battle. 

Jackson's  servant  used  to  say,  "I  can  tell  when 
there  is  going  to  be  a  big  fight,  for  Marse  Tom 
always  prays  a  long  time  before  one." 

When  the  Civil  War  began,  Jackson  threw  his 
lot  in  with  Virginia,  and  enlisted  in  the  Con- 
federate Army.  He  was  commissioned  a  General. 
The  first  great  battle  of  this  war  was  known  as 
Bull  Run,  or  the  Battle  of  Manassas.  The  Con- 
federate troops  were  driven  back,  but  were  rallied 
on  a  half -plateau  by  General  Jackson. 

Here  they  stood  immovable,  for  Jackson  refused 
to  retreat  a  step.  iVn  officer  rushed  up  and  said, 
"General,  they  are  beating  us  back,  and  we  are 
without  ammunition." 

"Then,  sir,"  replied  Jackson,  "we  will  give 
them  the  bayonet." 

A  few  minutes  later,  seeing  the  troops  around 
Jackson,  standing  their  ground  so  firmly.  General 
Bee,  a  Confederate  officer,  cried  out  to  his  own 
men: 

"Look  at  Jackson's  brigade!  It  stands  like  a 
stone  wall." 

After  this  incident,  the  great  soldier  was  known 
in  history  as  "Stonewall"  Jackson. 


368  AMERICA  FIRST 


Like  many  other  soldiers  Jackson  never  used 
coffee,  tobacco,  or  whisky.  Nor  could  he  bear  to 
hear  any  one  utter  profane  language.  He  never  re- 
frained from  expressing  his  disapproval  of  swearing. 

Often,  in  winter,  he  would  go  without  an  over- 
coat, saying,  "I  do  not  wish  to  give  in  to  the 
cold."  Once,  when  told  by  his  surgeon  that  he 
needed  a  little  brandy,  he  rephed,  ''I  like  it  too 
well;  that  is  the  reason  I  never  take  it.  I  am 
more  afraid  of  it  than  of  Federal  bullets." 

Jackson  always  shared  the  hardships  of  his  men. 
On  one  occasion,  when  his  brigade  was  worn  out 
with  marching,  he  said,  "Let  the  poor  fellows 
sleep.  I  will  guard  the  camp  myself."  Accord- 
ingly, he  acted  as  sentinel  during  the  night,  while 
his  tired  men  took  their  rest. 

Jackson  became  the  ablest  Lieutenant  of  General 
Lee,  who  relied  upon  him  implicitly.  He  was 
often  sent  upon  most  important  and  most  danger- 
ous missions,  but  his  skill  was  so  great  that  he 
always  returned  victorious.  So  rapid  were  the 
movements  of  his  troops,  that  they  became  known 
as  "  Jackson's  foot  cavalry." 

At  the  battle  of  Chancellorsville,  Lee  sent  Jack- 
son around  to  the  rear  of  Hooker's  army.  Jackson 
fell  so  suddenly  upon  the  flank  of  the  Federals 
that  they  were  thrown  into  confusion.     The  result 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  369 

of  the  attack  was  to  defeat  Hooker's  plan,  and  to 
check  his  advance. 

The  victory  was  dearly  bought.  Jackson  had 
ridden  out  in  the  gathering  darkness  to  reconnoitre 
the  positions  of  the  enemy,  and  was  returning  to 
camp.  He  ran  into  a  body  of  his  own  troops, 
who,  mistaking  his  party  for  Federal  cavalry,  fired 
upon  them.  Jackson  fell  from  his  horse  mortally 
wounded. 

He  was  borne  on  a  stretcher  to  a  farmhouse 
near  by,  where  he  died  after  a  few  days.  His 
final  thoughts  were  of  the  battle,  and  he  muttered 
orders  to  his  men  as  his  life  ebbed  away. 

His  last  words  were,  ''Let  us  cross  over  the 
river,  and  rest  under  the  shade  of  the  trees." 

His  death  was  a  great  loss  to  the  Confederate 
cause.  Lee  w^ept  when  he  heard  the  sad  news, 
and  said,  "I  have  indeed  lost  my  right  arm." 

• 

STEALING  A  LOCOMOTIVE 

One  day,  in  April,  1862,  a  passenger  train  was 
on  its  way  from  Marietta,  Georgia,  bound  North. 
At  Marietta,  about  twenty  men,  in  civilian  clothes, 
had  boarded  the  train,  nobody  paying  any  special 
attention  to  them.  Yet  these  men  were  bent  upon 
a  desperate  adventure. 


370  A]MERICA  FIRST 


Eight  miles  beyond  Marietta  the  train  stopped 
ten  minutes  for  breakfast  at  the  station,  called 
Big  Shanty.  Everybody  was  hungry,  and  soon  the 
passengers,  the  conductor,  the  engineer,  and  the 
fireman  were  in  the  breakfast  room.  The  men 
who  had  boarded  the  train  at  Marietta  quietly 
stole  toward  the  locomotive,  instead  of  following 
the  others.  No  one  paid  any  heed  to  their  move- 
ments, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  a  sentinel  was 
walking  his  beat  hardly  a  dozen  steps  away. 

One  of  the  men  climbed  into  the  cab  of  the 
locomotive,  another  slipped  in  between  two  cars 
and  pulled  out  the  coupling  pin,  while  the  others 
climbed  into  an  empty  box-car.  Finally,  the  man 
in  the  cab  laid  his  hand  upon  the  throttle.  The 
engine  moved  off  with  three  box  cars,  leaving  the 
passenger  coaches  standing  on  the  tracks. 

The  sentinel,  in  alarm,  fired  off  his  gun,  and  the 
passengers  ran  out  just  in  time  to  see  the  loco- 
motive and  cars  disappearing  in  the  distance.  The 
engine  had  been  stolen,  and  the  men  were  on  their 
way  to  the  Federal  lines.  The  conductor  was  so 
frightened  by  this  disaster  that  he  started  on  a 
run  up  the  track,  in  frantic  but  useless  haste  to 
overtake  the  fugitives.  The  amazed  passengers 
stood  helplessly  on  the  platform,  quite  powerless 
to  do  anything. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY 


The  men  who  had  stolen  the  locomotive  were  a 
party  of  Northern  scouts,  who  had  made  their 
way  m  disguise  into  the  Southern  lines,  with  the 
intention  of  stealing  a  train,  burning  the  bridges 
beliind  them,  and  make  useless  the  only  railroad 
by  which  troops  could  be  sent  to  Chattanooga  to 
oppose  the  Union  forces.  Their  enterprise  had 
succeeded  thus  far,  and  they  were  rapidly  making 
their  way  North. 

Then-  only  peril  seemed  to  be  the  telegraph 
wires,  by  which  information  could  be  sent  on 
ahead,  and  their  flight  arrested.  Therefore,  they 
stopped  a  few  miles  out  of  town  while  one  of  the 
men  clunbed  a  pole  and  cut  the  wires.  Then  they 
started  agam  on  their  w^ay.  Occasionally,  they 
had  to  stop  for  wood  or  water.  The  leader  of  the 
party,  named  Andrews,  answered  all  questions  by 
saying,  ''We  are  taking  a  train-load  of  powder  to 
General  Beauregard,"  and  pointed  to  the  box-cars 
as  evidence  of  his  statement. 

At  Kingston,  thirty  miles  from  Big  Shanty,  the 
party  drew  into  a  siding  to  let  a  local  train  go  by. 
Andrews  expected  to  move  away  after  this,  but, 
to  his  dismay,  the  train  carried  a  red  flag,  showing 
that  another  train  was  just  behind. 

"How  does  it  happen  that  this  road  is  blocked 
when  I  have  orders  to  hasten  with  this  powder  to 


372  AMERICA   FIRST 


General  Beauregard?"  he  asked  sharply  of  the 
conductor. 

The  conductor  replied,  "We  have  orders  to  move 
everything  out  of  Chattanooga,  and  there  are  a 
number  of  trains  on  this  track.  You  will  have  to 
wait,  or  run  into  a  collision  if  you  go  on."  This 
was  bad  news  for  the  fugitives,  for  they  had  to 
w^ait  an  hour  while  train  after  train  passed,  carry- 
ing the  red  flag.  At  last,  one  went  by  without 
that  signal,  and  Andrews  and  his  men  gladly 
leaped  on  board  their  own  train  and  started  wildly 
up  the  track,  hoping  to  escape  before  they  were 
suspected  or  pursued. 

Yet  they  must  guard  against  pursuit.  Stopping 
their  train,  they  sprang  out  to  tear  up  the  rails 
of  the  track  in  order  to  check  any  such  danger. 
Hardly  had  they  gotten  out  their  tools  before  they 
heard,  far  down  the  track,  the  ominous  whistle  of 
a  locomotive,  evidently  coming  under  full  speed. 
Abandoning  their  intention,  they  sprang  aboard  in 
alarm  and  haste,  and  started  ahead  under  full 
steam. 

The  race  was  on,  for  the  conductor  and  engineer 
of  the  stolen  train  had  secured  another  locomotive 
and  cab,  and,  filling  it  with  soldiers,  had  started 
in  hot  pursuit  of  the  daring  scouts.  Andrews  and 
his  men  well  knew  their  fate  if  they  were  caught. 


The  race  was  on. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  373 

They  were  not  only  robbers,  but  they  were  also 
spies,  and  capture  meant  death. 

On  went  the  firgitives  at  full  speed;  on  came 
their  pursuers  hardly  a  mile  behind!  The  loco- 
motives were  well  matched,  and  thundered  over 
the  rails  at  a  perilous  rate.  If  the  scouts  could 
only  stop  long  enough  to  tear  up  a  rail,  or  even 
to  pile  up  an  obstruction  of  ties,  all  might  be  safe, 
but  the  pursuit  was  too  hot,  and  there  was  no 
safety  except  in  flight! 

Andrews  now  uncoupled  the  rear  box-car,  hop- 
ing thus  to  wreck  his  pursuers  by  a  collision.  The 
Confederates  saw  the  danger  in  time  to  slow  dow^n, 
pick  up  the  car,  and  push  it  on  ahead  of  their 
engine.  x\ndrew^s  tried  the  same  trick  a  second 
time,  but  again  the  Confederates  caught  the  box- 
car, and  went  on  pushing  two  cars.  On  reaching  a 
siding,  at  Resaca,  the  Confederate  engineer  pushed 
the  tw^o  cars  into  a  switch  and  left  them  there, 
while  he  started  again  in  pursuit. 

Not  far  beyond  was  a  bridge,  which  Andrew^s 
hoped  to  destroy.  Setting  fire  to  the  third  box- 
car by  means  of  oil,  he  stopped  it  mid-way  on  the 
bridge,  and  left  it  there  in  full  blaze.  The  bridge 
was  covered,  but  fortunately  the  roof  was  w^et 
because  of  recent  rains.  Dense  smoke  poured  from 
each  end  of  the  blazing  car,  but  the  Confederate 


374  a:\ierica  first 


engineer  was  not  dismayed.  Right  into  the  smoke 
he  ran,  caught  the  box-car  on  his  pilot,  and  pushed 
it  off  the  bridge.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  flames 
were  extinguished,  and  all  danger  was  over. 

The  fugitives  were  now  in  a  sad  plight.  Their 
wood  and  water  were  exhausted,  and  their  steam 
was  getting  low\  Their  engine  was  slowing  down, 
and  escape  was  impossible.  The  men  sprang  from 
the  engine,  and  rushed  into  the  Avoods,  scattering 
in  every  direction. 

Soon,  the  Confederate  engine  arrived,  and  a  hot 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives  began.  The  alarm  spread 
rapidly,  and  the  whole  country  was  aroused.  In 
a  few  hours  several  of  the  men  w^ere  captured. 
The  rest  hid  in  the  woods  and  swamps,  and  lived 
the  best  they  could  on  roots  and  berries.  But 
by  the  end  of  the  week,  all  had  been  found,  and 
put  into  prison.  The  leaders  were  executed  "as 
spies  and  robbers." 


SAM  DAVIS 

In  times  of  war  it  is  necessary  to  have  scouts, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  go  into  the  enemy's  lines,  and 
far  into  the  enemy's  country,  in  order  to  get 
valuable  information,  and  bring  it  back  to  their 
commanders. 


STORIES   OF   OUR   OWN   HISTORY  875 

These  scouts  are  called  "spies"  by  the  enemy, 
and  if  they  are  caught  they  are  put  to  death,  by 
the  rules  of  warfare.  They  frequently  disguise 
themselves  by  wearing  the  enemy's  uniform,  or  the 
clothes  of  a  civilian.  Sometimes  they  dress  and 
act  as  if  they  were  quite  different  persons  from 
what  they  really  are.  A  young  scout  may  play 
the  part  of  an  innocent  old  farmer,  even  of  a 
woman;  or  take  any  character  that  will  suit  his 
purpose. 

It  is  a  life  full  of  danger  and  adventure.  A 
scout  must  be  very  brave  and  quick-witted.  He 
has  no  one  to  depend  upon  but  himself,  and  his 
wits  are  often  called  upon  to  do  their  best  to  get 
him  out  of  trouble.  He  is  sometimes  absent  for 
days  and  even  weeks,  and  no  one  hears  a  word 
from  him,  until  he  returns  with  the  information 
wanted. 

He  brings  word  of  the  size  of  the  enemy's  army, 
of  their  equipment,  and  of  the  strength  of  their 
positions.  He  often  learns  the  plans  of  their  pro- 
posed battles,  and  the  next  movement  of  their 
troops.  In  this  way,  his  commander  will  know 
exactly  when  to  attack  his  enemy,  and  how  best 
to  defend  himself. 

Sam  Davis  was  a  young  Southern  soldier,  de- 
tailed  as   a   scout.     He   was   only   seventeen  years 


376  AMERICA   FIRST 


old,  but  he  was  a  fine  rider,  and  knew  all  the 
country  into  which  he  was  expected  to  go.  General 
Bragg,  of  the  Southern  Army,  desired  to  know  the 
strength  of  the  Federal  forts  in  Middle  Tennessee, 
and  he  selected  Sam  Davis  to  bring  him  the 
information. 

\Yhen  Davis  came  before  him,  General  Bragg 
said,  *' Davis,  I  wish  you  to  get  this  information 
for  me.  It  is  a  dangerous  task,  my  boy,  but  you 
know  the  country  and  you  are  the  best  one  to  go. 
Be  very  careful,  for  if  you  are  caught,  you  will  be 
shot  as  a  spy.  You  need  not  go  if  you  do  not 
wish  to." 

Davis  stood  erect,  saluted  the  General,  and  said, 
"I  am  not  afraid.  I  know  the  country,  and  am 
ready  to  go.  I  also  know  the  dangers,  and  what 
will  happen  to  me  if  I  am  caught.  What  are  your 
instructions,  sir.^" 

He  rode  off  early  one  morning,  dressed  in  a  dis- 
guise. Wliat  he  did,  or  where  he  received  the 
information,  or  from  whom  he  obtained  it,  will 
never  be  known,  for  it  w^as  never  told  by  any 
one. 

After  several  weeks'  absence,  Davis  had  pro- 
cured all  the  data  he  needed,  and  was  on  his  way 
back  to  his  own  lines.  In  his  possession  were  very 
important  papers  and  drawings.     As  he  was  riding 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  .'377 

along,  thinking  that  in  a  few  hours  he  would  be 
beyond  danger  of  capture,  he  saw  a  body  of 
Federal  soldiers  in  the  road.  Hoping  to  pass  them 
without  disturbance,  he  rode  boldly  on  as  if  he 
were  going  to  w^ork  somewhere. 

One  of  the  soldiers  said,  "We  had  better  stop 
that  boy.  He  might  be  a  spy."  So  they  called 
upon  Davis  to  halt,  and  to  get  down  from  his 
horse.  In  spite  of  his  protests  of  innocence,  he  was 
searched,  and  the  papers  w^ere  found  in  his  clothes. 

Hurriedly,  the  boy  was  taken  before  the  North- 
ern General,  and  the  papers  found  upon  him  were 
sho^^^l.  He  was  court-martialed,  and,  according  to 
the  rules  of  war,  was  ordered  to  be  shot  the  next 
day  at  sunrise.  Davis  heard  the  sentence  with- 
out uttering  a  word,  or  even  changing  color. 

The  Northern  General  was  much  affected  by 
the  brave  conduct  of  the  young  scout.  Sending 
for  him  to  come  to  his  tent,  he  said  to  him, 

"My  boy,  you  are  very  young,  and  you  are 
very  brave.  I  hate  to  take  a  life  like  yours.  If 
you  will  tell  me  who  gave  you  those  papers,  I  will 
let  you  go  free.  Think  of  your  mother  and  father, 
and  of  the  Ufe  before  you,  and  save  yourself." 

Davis  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "General,  I 
received  those  papers  from  a  friend,  and  I  shall 
not  tell  his  name." 


378  AMERICA   FIRST 


The  General  then  said,  "Davis,  if  you  do  not 
tell  me  the  name  of  your  friend,  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled, by  the  rules  of  war,  to  order  you  shot 
to-morrow  morning.  I  hate  to  do  this,  for  I 
should  like  to  save  your  life.  But  I  cannot  help 
you,  if  you  refuse." 

Davis  answered,  "Do  you  suppose  I  would  save 
my  own  life  by  betraying  a  friend.^  I  have  never 
betrayed  anything  in  all  my  life,  and  I  shall  not 
do  so  now.  I  would  rather  die  a  thousand  times 
than  betray  any  secret  committed  to  my  care." 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  General. 
He  thought  of  his  own  boys,  and  of  his  own  scouts 
who  had  done  similar  service  for  him,  and  had 
gotten  off  safe.  Turning  to  the  guard,  he  said 
simply,  "Take  the  lad  away.  It  nearly  breaks 
my  heart  to  sign  this  order." 

The  next  morning,  Davis  was  led  before  a  file 
of  soldiers.  At  the  very  last,  he  was  firm  in  his 
refusal  to  give  any  information  as  to  where  he 
received  the  papers.  Those  around  him  begged 
him  to  change  his  mind,  but  he  answered  quietly, 

"No,  I  shall  not  betray  my  friend.  I  have 
given  my  word.  I  am  ready  to  die  as  a  soldier 
and  a  man." 

The  bandage  was  placed  over  his  eyes,  and,  in 
a   few   moments,   the   reports   of   the   rifle   told   of 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  379 

the  end  of  Sam  Davis's  life.  On  the  grounds  of 
the  capitol,  in  Nashville,  there  is  a  beautiful  monu- 
ment erected  to  his  memory  by  the  State  of 
Tennessee. 


AN  ESCAPE  FROM  PRISON 

Libby  Prison  was  in  Richmond,  Virginia.  Before 
the  Civil  War,  it  was  a  tobacco  warehouse,  close 
by  the  Lynchburg  Canal,  and  not  far  from  the 
James  River.  It  was  three  stories  high  in  front, 
and  four  in  the  rear,  built  of  brick  and  stone, 
with  thick  partition  walls  which  divided  it  into 
three  sections,  with  a  cellar  under  each. 

The  first  floor  contained  three  apartments,  one 
for  the  prison  authorities,  one  as  a  hospital,  and 
the  third  for  cooking  and  dining  purposes.  The 
upper  stories  had  sleeping  quarters  for  the  prisoners. 
In  this  prison,  one  thousand  Union  soldiers  were 
confined. 

There  was  little  chance  of  escape  from  it.  A 
strong  guard  surrounded  the  prison,  and  every 
precaution  was  taken.  The  only  attempt  at  es- 
cape that  even  partially  succeeded  was  made  by 
a  number  of  Union  prisoners  through  an  under- 
ground tunnel. 

The  enterprise  was  undertaken  by  a  few  of  the 


380  AMERICA  FIRST 


most  daring  of  the  Union  soldiers,  and  was  care- 
fully kept  secret  from  the  others.  One  of  the 
cellars,  reserved  for  the  storage  of  old  boxes  and 
barrels,  was  used  as  a  starting  place.  Fortunately, 
it  was  never  visited  by  the  prison  authorities,  and, 
once  at  work,  the  prisoners  could  proceed  without 
much  fear  of  detection  or  interruption. 

How  to  reach  the  cellar  and  begin  excavating 
the  tunnel  was  the  first  question  to  be  solved.  It 
was  decided  to  remove  the  stones  and  brick  in 
the  fireplace  of  the  cooking  room,  and  to  make  a 
sloping  entrance  into  the  cellar.  All  this  work 
was  done  at  night,  with  as  little  noise  as  possible, 
by  several  prisoners  who  were  stone-masons  by 
trade.  By  day,  the  bricks  and  stones  were  care- 
fully replaced,  and  all  evidence  of  their  labors  was 
covered  up.  In  a  few  days  the  cellar  was  reached, 
and  aU  was  ready  to  begin  digging  the  tunnel. 

This  proposed  tunnel  w^as  to  be  just  large  enough 
to  admit  one  man,  crawling  on  hands  and  knees. 
It  was  to  cross  a  narrow  street,  and  enter  a  lot 
used  as  a  stable  yard,  which  was  concealed  from 
the  street  by  a  high  board  fence.  Once  in  this 
yard,  and  behind  the  fence,  the  prisoners  would 
be  safe  from  detection  from  the  street,  and  could 
make  good  their  escape  through  the  other  side  of 
the  stable  yard. 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  381 

The  work  on  the  tunnel  began.  It  was  eight  or 
nine  feet  underground,  and  only  one  man  could 
dig  at  a  time.  The  only  tools  they  had  were 
pocket-knives,  small  hatchets,  a  broken  fire-shovel, 
and  pieces  of  fire-wood.  But  the  earth  w^as  soft, 
and  the  prospect  of  liberty  was  alluring. 

Night  after  night  the  work  went  on,  one  man 
digging  forw^ard  and  another  one  passing  the  dirt 
back  to  others  who  scattered  it  on  the  floor  of  the 
cellar  and  covered  it  with  straw.  The  air  in  the 
tunnel  was  very  close;  the  positions  of  the  men 
were  cramped;  and  there  w^as  constant  danger  of 
the  earth  caving  in.  But  these  daring  men  worked 
on,  for  they  were  struggling  to  gain  their  freedom. 

In  about  three  weeks,  the  tunnel  was  considered 
to  be  long  enough,  and  so  the  forward  workman 
began  to  dig  upwards.  In  a  short  while,  he  had 
made  an  opening,  and  cautiously  stuck  his  head 
out.  To  his  dismay  he  found  he  was  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  fence,  and  still  in  the  street, 
with  a  sentry  only  a  few^  yards  away.  Fortu- 
nately, the  sentry  did  not  see  him.  Quickly  con- 
cealing the  opening  with  grass,  and  packing  it 
from  underneath  so  it  would  look  like  a  hole  in 
the  ground,  the  workman  succeeded  in  avoiding 
detection,  and  work  on  the  tunnel  was  renewed. 

Ten    feet   further    on   brought   them   well   inside 


382  AMERICA  FIRST 


the  stable  yard,  and  behind  the  protecting  fence. 
The  opening  was  now  made,  and,  to  the  joy  of  the 
prisoners,  the  way  of  escape  seemed  plain.  The 
evening  of  February  9,  1864,  was  appointed  as 
the  time  to  make  their  dash  for  liberty.  The  hour 
set  was  nine  o'clock.  One  can  well  imagine  the 
intense  eagerness  and  excitement  with  which  the 
men  awaited  the  moment  for  their  adventure. 

About  one  hundred  men,  who  were  in  the  secret, 
assembled  and,  in  single  file,  one  by  one,  they 
crawled  through  the  opening  in  the  fireplace,  across 
the  cellar,  and  into  the  tunnel.  There  was  no 
crowding  and  no  rushing.  The  men  proceeded 
silently  on  their  knees,  one  behind  the  other,  and 
climbed  out  into  the  stable  yard. 

As  soon  as  two  emerged,  they  made  off  together, 
and,  crossing  the  yard,  came  into  a  nearby  street. 
They  strolled  away,  conversing  in  ordinary  tones, 
as  though  they  were  citizens  bent  on  their  o^^^l 
affairs.  They  wore  no  prison  clothes,  so  their  ap- 
pearance excited  no  suspicion.  In  about  three 
hours,  one  hundred  and  nine  men  had  escaped, 
and  had  scattered  through  the  town.  Not  one  of 
them  had  been  challenged  by  the  guard,  who  was 
pacing  his  rounds  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence. 

The  fugitives  found  themselves  in  well-lighted 
streets,   filled   with   people,   and   with   shops   open. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  383 

But  they  gave  no  sign  of  haste.  Talking  and 
laughing,  they  proceeded  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  and  disappeared  into  the  open  country. 

The  absence  of  so  many  at  roll-call  the  next 
moiTiing  excited  the  suspicion  of  the  prison  au- 
thorities. A  search  was  immediately  begun,  and, 
as  soon  as  the  facts  were  established,  an  alarm 
was  sent  out  to  scour  the  country  for  the  escaped 
prisoners.  Of  those  who  had  gone,  fifty-five 
reached  the  Union  fines  in  safety,  but  fifty-four 
were  re-captured. 


RUNNING  THE   BLOCKADE 

During  the  Civil  War,  the  harbors  of  the  South- 
ern ports  were  closely  blockaded,  so  as  to  cut  off 
suppfies  from  foreign  countries.  In  spite  of  the 
watchful  gunboats  patrolling  the  coasts,  there  were 
many  adventurous  blockade-runners,  that  slipped 
past  the  patrol,  carrying  supphes  to  the  Confed- 
eracy, and  bringing  out  cotton  and  other  products 
for  foreign  trade.  The  life  of  a  blockade-runner 
was  full  of  perils  and  thrilling  experiences. 

This  is  the  story  of  how  a  blockade-runner  made 
its  way  into  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  which 
fies  about  sixteen  miles  up  Cape  Fear  River.     At 


384  AMERICA   FIRST 


the  mouth  of  the  river  was  Fort  Fisher,  whose 
guns  kept  the  blockading  fleet  some  distance  away, 
thus  giving  a  blockade-runner  a  chance  to  slip  in, 
once  under  protection  of  the  fort. 

The  mouth  of  tlie  river  was  heavily  patrolled 
by  Federal  vessels.  There  were  three  sections  of 
them,  one  cordon  as  near  shore  as  was  safe,  and 
two  others  lying  outside,  so  that  a  blockade-runner 
must  needs  be  very  alert  to  get  by  their  vigilance. 

The  Banshee  was  a  blockade-runner  operating 
from  Nassau.  On  her  first  run  into  Wilmington, 
she  left  the  shores  of  the  Bahamas,  and  crept 
noiselessly  along,  invisible  in  the  darkness,  and 
keeping  well  out  of  sight  of  vessels  in  the  daytime. 

During  the  day,  a  man  was  stationed  in  the 
cross-trees,  and  the  moment  a  sail  was  seen  on 
the  horizon,  The  Banshee  would  turn  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  until  the  sail  was  lost  beyond  the 
horizon.  Every  time  the  look-out  man  saw  a  sail, 
he  was  given  a  dollar.  If  the  sail  was  discovered 
first  from  the  deck,  the  look-out  man  was  fined 
five  dollars. 

Thus,  two  days  passed,  and  The  Banshee  neared 
her  destination.  The  night  was  dark,  but  calm 
and  clear.  No  lights  were  allowed  —  not  even  a 
cigar.  The  steersman  had  to  see  as  much  of  the 
compass  as  he  could  through  a  shield  that  came 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  385 

almost  to  his  eyes.  Absolute  silence  prevailed,  as 
the  blockade-runner  moved  into  the  danger  zone. 

At  length,  they  were  opposite  the  mouth  of 
Cape  Fear  River. 

"Better  cast  a  lead.  Captain,  to  find  the  bottom," 
whispered  the  Pilot. 

A  muttered  order  down  the  engine-room  tube, 
and  The  Banshee  slowed  down,  and  then  stopped. 
The  lead  was  cast,  and  the  report  was  "Sixteen 
fathoms  —  sandy  bottom  with  black  specks." 

"Not  far  enough  in,  and  too  far  southward," 
said  the  Pilot.  "We  must  get  away  from  that 
bottom  before  we  head  in  shore." 

At  the  end  of  an  hour,  the  lead  was  cast  again, 
and  the  Pilot  whispered  to  the  steersman,  "All 
right,  we  are  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  river. 
Starboard,  and  go  easy." 

The  ship  crept  along  slowly  in  the  darkness. 
Not  a  sound  was  heard  except  the  beat  of  the 
paddle  floats.  Suddenly,  the  Pilot  grasped  the 
Captain's  arm. 

"There's  one  of  them,  on  the  starboard  bow," 
he  whispered. 

A  moment  afterward,  a  long,  low,  black  ship 
was  seen,  not  a  hundred  yards  away,  lying  still 
on  the  water.  The  Banshee  drifted  by  as  noise- 
lessly as  possible.     Not  a  movement  was  seen  on 


586  AMERICA  FIRST 


the  patrol  boat,  and,  in  a  half-hour,  it  was  lost  in 
the  darkness. 

Not  long  afterwards  came  the  whispered  alarm, 
*' Steamer  on  the  port  bow."  Another  cruiser  was 
close  by. 

"Hard-a-port,"  said  the  Captain  to  the  steers- 
man, and  The  Banshee  swung  around,  barely  miss- 
ing the  cruiser. 

Hardly  had  this  second  ship  been  passed,  before 
a  third  one  loomed  up,  dead  ahead,  steaming 
slowly  across  the  bows  of  The  Banshee, 

*'Stop  her,"  was  the  quick  order  down  the 
engine-room  tube,  and  The  Banshee  lay  dead  on 
the  water. 

"Instead  of  going  round  those  blockaders,  we 
are  going  through  them,"  said  the  Pilot  to  the 
Captain.  ''Our  only  hope  is  that  they  will  not 
recognize  us,  and  will  take  us  for  one  of  them." 

Day  was  not  far  off,  and  The  Banshee  must 
make  haste  to  get  inside  the  cordons  of  the  block- 
ade. She  was  headed  straight  for  the  white  line  of 
surf  on  the  shore.  As  much  speed  as  possible  w^as 
made,  and  all  eyes  were  strained  for  any  familiar 
landmarks. 

Daylight  now  streaked  the  East.  Fort  Fisher 
was  some  distance  off,  and  the  gunboats  were 
still    on    the    watch    for    blockade -runners.     In    a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  387 


half  hour,  The  Banshee  would  be  safe,  or  else 
captured. 

Six  or  seven  gunboats  appeared  out  of  the  mist, 
and  headed  for  the  blockade-runner,  to  discover 
her  identity. 

"Full  steam  ahead,  and  a  race  for  the  fort," 
cried  the  Captain. 

Displaying  her  flag,  she  ran  full  steam  toward 
the  protecting  guns  of  the  fort.  It  was  now  a 
question  of  speed  and  distance,  for  The  Banshee  was 
discovered,  and  her  purpose  was  known!  Boom! 
came  the  roar  of  guns  across  the  waters.  Splash! 
Splash!  fell  the  shells,  uncomfortably  near  the 
runner,  which  was  carrying  a  cargo  of   ammunition. 

But  Fort  Fisher  was  now  awake,  and  the  guns 
began  to  roar.  Every  minute  brought  The  Banshee 
nearer  to  safety,  and  the  gunboats  into  greater 
danger.  The  guns  from  the  fort  rained  shells 
over  The  Banshee,  and  into  the  sides  of  her  pursuers. 

With  a  sullen  roar,  and  a  parting  shot,  the  gun- 
boats drew  off,  and  the  blockade-runner  ghded 
under  the  walls  of  the  fort. 

In  and  out  ran  The  Banshee,  trip  after  trip, 
bringing  in  guns,  ammunition,  and  medicines,  and 
carrying  out  cotton  and  tobacco.  Her  daring  crew 
had  many  narrow  escapes  before  the  war  came  to 
an  end. 


388  AMERICA   FIRST 


THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SOUTH 

The  great  Civil  War  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
The  exhausted  Confederacy  was  bleeding  to  death. 
There  was  a  shortage  of  men  and  supplies,  but 
the  South  was  hanging  on  desperately  to  a  cause 
that  already  was  doomed.  Grant  and  Lee  were 
fighting  it  out  in  Virginia,  while  Sherman,  the 
Northern  General,  having  captured  Atlanta,  was 
making  ready  for  his  march  to  the  sea. 

His  army  of  sixty  thousand  men  was  unopposed. 
The  fair,  open  country  was  before  them,  with  the 
harvests  of  the  fall  already  gathered  in  the  barns. 
It  was  to  be  a  march  of  destruction,  but  without 
violence  to  the  people  themselves. 

"The  people  must  feel  the  hard  hand  of  war. 
It  is  better  to  lose  property  than  to  lose  hves. 
This  is  the  best  means  to  end  the  war,"  were  the 
reflections  of  General  Sherman,  as  his  men  started 
out  on  their  six-weeks,  holiday  march  to  the  sea. 

The  distance  was  three  hundred  miles,  and  the 
soldiers  were  told  to  live  on  the  country,  as  they 
advanced.  There  was  no  need  of  wagon  trains,  when 
the  land  was  provided  with  food  which  was  being 
gathered  for  the  Confederate  soldiers  in  Virginia. 


STORIES  OF  OUR   OWN   HISTORY  389 

The  Federal  army  spread  out  to  cover  a  front 
of  forty  miles.  The  men  had  orders  to  march 
about  fifteen  miles  a  day,  and  to  forage  as  they 
went  along.  These  foragers  brought  in  poultry, 
vegetables,  cattle,  and  food  supplies  of  all  kinds. 
They  had  orders  not  to  destroy  property  need- 
lessly, but  these  orders  were  not  strictly  observed, 
and,  in  many  instances,  farm  houses,  gin  houses, 
and  cotton  crops  were  burned,  while  fields  were 
laid  waste.  Often,  the  horses  were  taken  from 
the  farms,  and  the  cows  and  hogs  were  driven 
aw^ay  or  else  slaughtered  for  the  immediate  use  of 
the  soldiers. 

In  spite  of  regulations,  a  large  number  of  "bum- 
mers" and  thieves  followed  the  army,  who  were 
not  responsible  to  any  orders.  Before  these  bandits 
the  Southern  people  were  helpless.  They  not  only 
robbed  houses  of  their  provisions,  but  took  away 
silver  ware,  clothing  and  valuable  articles  of 
furniture. 

In  order  to  do  as  much  damage  as  possible,  the 
soldiers  tore  up  the  railroad  tracks,  burned  the 
ties,  and,  heating  the  rails,  bent  many  of  them 
around  the  telegraph  poles.  In  this  way,  a  path 
of  desolation  was  cut  through  the  heart  of  the 
South,  that  did  much  to  hasten  the  inevitable 
end   of   the   conflict. 


390  AjVIERICA   FIRST 


The  Federal  army  was  followed  by  crowds  of 
negroes,  raany  of  them  neither  knowing  where  they 
were  headed,  nor  what  the  march  meant.  They 
were  just  moving  along  with  the  soldiers,  careless 
and  happy,  singing  their  songs,  by  night,  and 
helping  the  marching  men,  by  day. 

"Bless  de  Lord,  w^e'se  free,  and  we'se  gwine 
along  wid  dese  sojers,"  said  one  old  woman  with 
a  child  in  her  arms. 

"But  where  are  you  going,  and  what  will  you 
do  when  you  get  there?"  asked  one  of  the 
officers. 

"Dat  makes  no  diffunce  now.  Dat's  a  mont' 
off.  I  nevah  looks  dat  fur  ahead,"  was  the  philo- 
sophical reply. 

The  soldiers  traveled  along  leisurely.  The 
weather  was  good,  the  supplies  were  sufficient, 
the  march  was  unopposed.  All  the  telegraph  lines 
were  cut,  and  no  news  of  their  whereabouts  was 
sent  to  the  North.  They  were  having  a  holiday, 
after  the  hard  fighting  of  the  first  part  of  the  year. 

Finally,  after  much  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the 
North,  General  Sherman  reached  Savannah.  On 
Christmas  Eve  he  sent  a  message  to  President 
Lincoln : 

"I  beg  to  present  to  you,  as  a  Christmas  gift, 
the  city  of  Savannah,  with  one  hundred  and  fifty 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  391 

guns,    and    plenty    of    ammunition;     also    about 
twenty -five  thousand  bales  of  cotton." 

Thus  it  was  that  Sherman's  army  marched 
through  Georgia,  doing  no  violence  to  the  people, 
but  doing  a  property  damage  that  w^as  estimated 
at  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars.  Such  is  the 
sad  havoc  of  war. 


THE  SURRENDER  OF  GENERAL  LEE 

At  a  house,  in  the  little  town  of  Appomattox, 
Virginia,  on  April  9,  1865,  a  memorable  event  took 
place.  General  Robert  E.  Lee  here  met  General 
Ulysses  S.  Grant,  and  surrendered  the  Confederate 
Army  under  his  command. 

For  four  years,  the  terrible  war  between  the 
North  and  South  had  been  going  on,  until  the 
Southern  Army  was  reduced  to  a  bare  handful  of 
ill-fed  and  badly  clothed  men.  The  South  had 
been  drained  of  her  men  and  supplies,  and  Lee 
saw  it  was  useless  to  continue  the  unequal  struggle 
any  longer. 

The  two  great  Generals  met  by  agreement  in 
this  village  to  arrange  terms  for  the  cessation  of 
hostilities. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  men  was  striking. 


392  AMERICA   FIRST 


Grant  was  forty -three  years  of  age,  five  feet,  eight 
inches  tall,  with  brown  hair  and  full  brown  beard. 
He  wore  a  single-breasted  blouse,  of  dark  blue 
flannel,  an  ordinary  pair  of  top-boots,  with  his 
trousers  inside;  he  was  without  spurs,  and  he  had 
no  sword.  A  pair  of  shoulder-straps  was  all  to 
show  his  rank.  Around  him  sat  or  stood  a  dozen 
of  his  staff  officers. 

Lee,  on  the  other  hand,  was  six  feet  tall,  and 
faultlessly  attired.  His  hair  and  beard  were  silver 
gray,  and  quite  thick  for  one  of  his  age.  He  was 
sixteen  years  older  than  Grant.  He  wore  a  new 
Confederate  uniform,  and,  by  his  side,  was  a 
sword  of  exquisite  workmanship,  the  hilt  studded 
with  jewels.  It  was  the  sword  presented  to  him 
by  the  State  of  Virginia.  His  boots  were  new  and 
clean,  and  he  wore  a  pair  of  handsome  spurs.  He 
was  attended  by  a  single  officer,  his  mihtary 
secretary. 

Lee  was  the  first  to  arrive,  and,  when  Grant 
entered,  he  arose  and  bowed  profoundly.  Grant 
and  his  officers  returned  the  greeting.  Grant  then 
sat  at  a  marble-top  table,  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  while  Lee  sat  at  a  small  oval  table,  near  a 
window. 

General  Grant  began  the  conversation  by  say- 
ing,  *'I  met  you  once  before.  General  Lee,  while 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  303 

we  were  serving  in  Mexico.  I  have  always  remem- 
bered your  appearance,  and  I  think  I  should  have 
recognized  you  anywhere." 

"Yes,"  replied  Lee,  "I  know  I  met  you  in 
Mexico,  and  I  have  often  thought  of  it.  Those 
were  wonderful  experiences  for  us,  when  we  were 
young  soldiers." 

After  a  few  more  remarks  about  Mexico,  Lee 
said,  "I  suppose.  General  Grant,  that  the  object 
of  our  meeting  is  understood.  I  asked  to  see  you 
to  find  out  upon  what  terms  you  would  receive 
the  surrender  of  my  army." 

Grant  replied,  "The  terms  are  that  all  officers 
and  men  surrendered  are  to  be  paroled,  and  are 
not  to  take  up  arms  again;  and  all  guns,  ammu- 
nition, and  supplies  are  to  be  handed  over  as  cap- 
tured property." 

Lee  suggested  that  the  terms  be  written  out  for 
his  acceptance.  This  was  done,  Grant  adding  that 
the  side-arms,  horses,  and  baggage  of  the  officers 
were  not  to  be  included  in  the  terms  of  surrender. 
There  was  no  demand  made  for  the  surrender  of 
Lee's  sword,  nor  was  there  any  offer  of  it  on  Lee's 
part.     In  fact,  nothing  was  said  about  it. 

When  the  document  was  written,  Lee  took  out 
his  glasses,  and  slowly  put  them  on.  Reading  the 
terms  of  surrender,  he  remarked, 


394  AMERICA   FIRST 


"1  would  like  to  mention  that  the  cavalry  and 
artillery  own  their  horses.  I  would  like  to  know 
whether  those  men  will  be  permitted  to  retain 
their  own  stock." 

Grant  immediately  replied,  ''I  take  it  that  most 
of  the  men  in  the  ranks  are  small  farmers,  and, 
as  the  country  has  been  so  raided  by  the  armies, 
it  is  doubtful  if  they  wall  be  able  to  put  in  a  crop 
to  carry  them  through  next  winter  without  the  aid 
of  the  horses  they  now  have.  I  wdll  instruct  the 
officers  to  let  the  men,  who  claim  to  own  horses 
or  mules,  take  the  animals  home  wath  them  to 
w^ork  their  little  farms." 

Lee  appreciated  this  concession,  and  said,  ''This 
will  have  the  very  best  possible  effect  upon  the 
men.  It  will  do  much  toward  conciliating  our 
people."  He  then  wrote  out  his  acceptance  of  the 
terms  of  the  surrender. 

"NMien  this  was  done.  General  Grant  introduced 
the  members  of  his  staff  to  General  Lee.  Some  of 
them  Lee  had  known  before,  and  the  conversation 
became  general  and  cordial.  Lee  at  length  said, 
''General  Grant,  I  have  a  thousand  or  more  of 
your  men  as  prisoners,  a  number  of  them  officers. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  send  them  into  your  lines  as 
soon  as  possible,  for  I  have  no  provisions  for  them. 
I   have   indeed   nothing   for   my   own   men.      They 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  395 

have  been  living  for  the  last  few  days  on  parched 
corn,  and  we  are  badly  in  need  of  both  rations 
and  forage." 

General  Grant  immediately  offered  to  receive 
the  prisoners  back  into  his  own  lines,  and  said, 
"I  will  take  steps  to  have  your  army  supplied  with 
rations  at  once."  Turning  to  an  officer,  he  gave 
the  command  for  the  issuing  of  the  rations  to  the 
hungry  Confederate  Army. 

The  two  Generals  then  shook  hands,  and,  bow- 
ing gravely  to  the  others,  Lee  prepared  to  depart. 
Reaching  the  porch,  he  signaled  for  the  orderly 
to  bring  up  his  horse.  When  it  was  ready,  he 
mounted  and  rode  away,  to  break  the  sad  news 
to  the  brave  fellows  he  had  so  long  commanded. 

The  news  of  the  surrender  reached  the  Union 
lines,  and  firing  of  salutes  began  at  several  places. 
Grant  sent  orders  to  stop  this,  saying, 

"The  war  is  over,  and  it  is  ill-becoming  to  re- 
joice in  the  downfall  of  a  gallant  foe." 

When  Lee  appeared  among  his  soldiers,  they 
saw  by  his  sad  countenance  that  he  brought  them 
news  of  surrender.  They  stood  in  silence,  as  he 
rode  before  them,  every  hat  raised,  and  down  the 
bronzed  cheek  of  thousands  of  hardened  veterans 
there  ran  bitter  tears. 

As  Lee  rode  slowly  along  the  lines,  the  old  sol- 


396  AMERICA   FIRST 


diers  pressed  about  him,  trying  to  take  his  hand, 
to  touch  his  person,  or  even  to  lay  their  hands 
upon  his  splendid  gray  horse,  thus  showing  for 
him  their  deep  affection.  Then  General  Lee,  with 
bare  head,  and  tears  flowing,  bade  adieu  to  his 
soldiers.  In  a  few  words,  he  told  the  brave  men, 
who  had  been  so  true,  to  return  to  their  homes, 
and  begin  to  rebuild  their  waste  lands. 

LAYING  THE  ATLANTIC   CABLE 

A  number  of  years  ago,  a  wealthy,  retired  mer- 
chant of  New  York  City,  named  Cyrus  W.  Field, 
sat  in  the  library  of  his  home,  studying  a  large 
globe  of  the  world.  He  was  thinking  about  the 
electric  telegraph  that  Morse  had  invented,  and 
was  wondering  how  far  it  would  carry  a  message. 

He  was  also  thinking  that  Commodore  Maury 
had  said  to  him  a  short  while  before  that  the 
ocean  bottom  was  a  table-land  along  a  certain 
direction,  and  could  easily  hold  an  electric  cable, 
if  it  were  laid  properly. 

"What  an  advantage  it  would  be  to  civilization 
if  the  electric  telegraph  could  be  used  between 
countries  on  opposite  sides  of  the  ocean,"  he  said 
to  himself.  ''To-morrow  I  will  speak  to  my  friend 
Peter  Cooper  about  it." 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  397 

The  next  morning,  he  not  only  talked  the  matter 
over  with  Peter  Cooper,  but  wrote  a  letter  to 
Samuel  Morse. 

Peter  Cooper  afterwards  said,  "I  am  glad  that 
Field  chose  me  among  the  first  to  discuss  this 
great  enterprise,  but  I  felt  sure  at  the  time  that 
most  people  would  think  us  crazy." 

Cooper,  however,  agreed  to  the  enterprise,  be- 
cause he  saw  that  a  great  deal  of  good  could  come 
of  it,  and  he  wanted  to  help  his  friend,  Cyrus 
Field.  Together,  they  went  to  their  wealthy 
friends,  and  raised  a  large  sum  of  money  to  form 
the  Atlantic  Telegraph  Company. 

The  first  undertaking  was  to  lay  a  line  on  the 
ocean  bed,  from  the  mainland  to  the  island  of 
New^foundland.  This  was  readily  done,  and  was  a 
success,  showing  that  cable  lines  could  transmit 
messages  under  the  water. 

Field  and  Morse  then  went  to  England,  and 
appeared  before  the  British  Government.  "We 
have  come  to  propose  to  your  lordships  that  you 
join  us  in  uniting,  by  an  electric  cable,  the  two 
great  countries  of  Great  Britain  and  America.  It 
will  take  a  great  deal  of  money,  but,  in  the  end 
it  will  bring  much  benefit  to  both  peoples.  We 
are  ready  to  do  our  part." 

"But  suppose  you  make  the  attempt  and   fail, 


398  AMERICA  FIRST 


and  your  cable  is  lost  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
Then,  what  will  you  do?"  asked  an  Englishman. 

''Wiy,  if  the  cable  is  lost,  I  shall  lay  another, 
and  another,  until  one  does  reach  and  hold.  Every 
cable  I  lose  I  shall  charge  to  profit  and  loss,  and 
then  I  shall  start  over  again,"  was  the  reply  of 
the  x4merican. 

This  so  pleased  the  British  that  they  at  once 
offered  to  furnish  money  and  a  vessel  to  help  lay 
the  cable.  Congress  also  appropriated  money,  and 
thus  the  two  Governments  were  pledged  to  the 
great  enterprise. 

The  British  ship,  Agamemnon,  and  the  American 
ship,  Niagara,  were  set  apart  for  the  work.  Each 
vessel  carried  a  load  of  cable,  and  they  sailed  from 
the  coast  of  Ireland.  On  board  the  American  ship 
were  Field  and  Morse. 

The  Niagara  began  the  work.  The  cable  was 
securely  anchored  to  the  shore,  and  unwound 
along  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  as  the  vessel 
steamed  slowly  along.  Mile  after  mile  was  paid 
out  in  this  way,  the  big  cylinder  slowly  revolving, 
and  the  long,  dark  cable  falling  into  the  ocean  bed. 
Day  and  night  the  work  went  on,  the  other  vessel 
standing  by  to  take  up  the  work  when  the  Niagara 
had  exhausted  her  supply  of  cable. 

At  the  end  of  three  hundred  miles  there  was  a 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  399 

wrench  and  a  tug,  and  the  cable  snapped  in  two. 
There  w^as  a  great  cry,  "The  cable  has  parted; 
the  cable  has  parted." 

Naturally,  this  caused  bitter  disappointment  and 
much  discouragement.  "You  will  never  succeed. 
It  is  too  great  an  undertaking.  You  had  better 
give  it  up,"  was  all  that  Field  heard  on  every  side. 

"I  shall  not  give  it  up,"  said  he,  "but  will  start 
in  mid-ocean,  and  let  the  vessels  go  in  opposite 
directions,  one  toward  Ireland  and  the  other  toward 
Newfoundland." 

And  so  he  did.  With  a  new  supply  of  cable, 
he  started,  in  mid-ocean,  having  sphced  the  ends 
of  the  cable  together.  Each  vessel  sailed  tow^ards 
its  own  country,  slowly  paying  out  the  cable  on 
the  ocean  bed  from  the  great  coil  in  the  stern. 

In  a  few  weeks,  there  came  the  news,  "The 
cable  is  laid.  The  cable  is  laid."  The  people 
were  now  as  excited  over  the  success  of  the  cable 
as  they  had  been  gloomy  and  doubtful  before- 
hand. Bells  were  rung,  guns  were  fired,  and  great 
placards  were  hung  about  the  streets  of  New 
York.  And  there  were  many  speeches  of  con- 
gratulation ! 

On  the  16th  of  August,  1858,  Queen  Victoria 
sent  a  cable  message  to  President  Buchanan,  and 
the  President  sent  a  courteous  reply.     They  w^ere 


400  AMERICA   FIRST 


messages  of  friendship  and  good-will  between  the 
two  countries,  now  united  by  a  cable  nearly  three 
thousand  miles  long,  over  which  a  message  could 
travel  in  the  fraction  of  a  second. 

But  amidst  all  the  rejoicing  came  word  that  for 
some  reason  the  cable  would  not  work.  No  more 
messages  could  be  transmitted,  and  nobody  could 
find  out  the  reason  why.  More  than  a  million 
dollars  had  been  spent,  and  nothing  profitable  had 
come  of  it! 

Then  the  Civil  War  began,  and  for  four  years 
the  American  people  thought  of  little  else  than  the 
great  struggle.  Cyrus  Field  was  forgotten,  but  he 
did  not  forget,  nor  did  he  lose  hope. 

"When  the  war  is  over,  and  the  mind  of  the 
world  is  settled,  I  shall  try  again,  —  but  not  until 
then,"  he  said  to  some  friends. 

At  last,  the  time  came,  and  Field  renew^ed  his 
efforts.  He  now  had  but  one  vessel,  The  Great 
Eastern,  It  was  a  monster  ship,  remodeled  for  the 
purpose  of  carrying  the  cable  and  laying  it  on  the 
ocean  bed.  Another  failure  was  added  to  the  list 
of  early  attempts,  for  the  cable  parted  in  mid- 
ocean,  and  sank  to  the  bottom. 

Again  an  effort  was  made,  and  The  Great  Eastern 
set  sail  with  its  coil  of  cable.  This  last  trip  was 
crowned  with  success,  and  the  cable  was  laid. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  401 


Then  The  Great  Eastern  returned  to  mid-ocean, 
and  began  grappling  for  the  cable  she  had  lost  on 
her  first  voyage.  The  broken  ends  were  found, 
welded  together  properly,  and,  before  the  end  of 
1866,  two  cables  were  working  between  Ireland  and 
America. 

Field  had  labored  for  thirteen  years,  and  had 
spent  a  great  deal  of  money,  but  at  last  he  had 
succeeded.  More  than  a  dozen  cables  now  cross 
the  Atlantic,  and  many  stretch  over  the  vast  bed 
of  the  Pacific;  all  shores  are  now  in  touch  with 
each  other,  and  messages  can  be  sent  around  the 
world  in  a  few  hours. 

This  is  due  to  the  energy  and  perseverance  of 
the  man  who  did  not  know  how  to  fail,  and  who 
would  not  give  up  trying! 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  TELEPHONE 

There  was  a  great  Exposition  held  in  Phila- 
delphia, in  1876.  It  was  called  the  Centennial, 
because  it  celebrated  the  one-hundredth  anniver- 
sary of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Nearly 
every  country  in  the  world  contributed  to  the  ex- 
hibits, and  people  from  every  nation  came  to  see 
the  wonderful  display  of  art  and  industry. 


402  AMERICA   FIRST 


Among  the  visitors  was  Dom  Pedro,  the  Em- 
peror of  Brazil.  He  was  a  man  of  great  knowl- 
edge, and  was  much  interested  in  invention.  The 
ofHcials  of  the  Exposition  showed  him  special  at- 
tention. Among  other  things,  he  was  asked  to  a 
room  where  the  judges  were  passing  on  the  objects 
offered  for  exhibition.  A  young  man  w^as  speaking 
to  the  Committee. 

"I  have  here  a  new  invention,"  he  said,  ''the 
purpose  of  w^hich  is  to  convey  the  human  voice 
over  a  wire  by  electricity,  so  that  it  can  be  heard 
a  long  distance  off.     I  call  it  a  telephone." 

The  judges  w^ere  tired,  and  the  hour  was  late. 
They  were  about  to  dismiss  the  young  man  with- 
out even  trying  to  see  whether  his  invention  would 
w^ork.  They  did  not  put  the  receiver  to  their  ears, 
nor  did  they  speak  in  the  mouth-piece  when  the 
inventor  asked  them  to  do  so. 

Dom  Pedro  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  listened 
to  what  was  going  on.  He  saw  the  eagerness  in 
the  face  of  the  young  man,  and  noticed  the  in- 
difference of  the  judges.  He  felt  indignant  that  so 
much  enthusiasm  should  meet  with  so  great  a  rebuff. 

Stepping  into  the  room,  he  was  surprised  to 
recognize  the  young  man  as  Alexander  Graham 
Bell,  whom  he  had  met  in  Boston,  and  to  whom 
he  had  already  taken  a  great  fancy. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  403 

"Let  me  examine  your  instrument,  if  you  please," 
he  said  politely,  and  put  the  receiver  to  his  ear. 

Bell  went  into  another  room,  where  the  other 
end  of  the  wire  was,  and  recited  into  the  trans- 
mitter some  lines  from  a  great  poem,  which  Dom 
Pedro  heard  distinctly. 

''This  is  very  w^onderful,"  he  said.  "I  think, 
gentlemen,  you  will  make  a  mistake  not  to  allow 
Mr.  Bell  to  exhibit  his  telephone,  for  it  is  a  very 
interesting  device,  and  may  some  day  be  a  service- 
able one." 

The  judges  were  anxious  to  please  their  distin- 
guished visitor,  and  so  allowed  the  telephone  to 
have  space. 

"It  is  merely  a  toy,  and  it  might  amuse  the 
public,  at  any  rate,"  said  one. 

But  this  toy  proved  to  be  one  of  the  great  at- 
tractions at  the  Exposition.  Crowds  came  every 
day  to  hear  the  voices  of  their  friends  over  the 
wire.  The  question  asked  by  many  was,  ''Have 
you  tried  the  telephone  yet.^" 

Alexander  Graham  Bell  was  a  teacher  of  deaf- 
mutes.  They  were  taught  to  know  what  others 
were  saying  by  watching  the  motion  of  their  lips. 
The  system  had  been  worked  out  by  Bell's  father, 
but  young  Bell  had  greatly  improved  upon  it.  He 
had  succeeded  in  teaching  persons,  born  deaf,  and 


404  a:merica  first 


those  who  had  become  deaf  in  mfancy,  not  only 
to  understand  the  motion  of  lips,  but  also  to  speak. 

One  of  his  pupils  was  a  young  girl  who  had 
lost  her  hearing  when  a  baby,  and,  in  consequence, 
her  speech  also.  She  was  a  lovable,  bright  girl. 
Bell  taught  her  to  speak  and  to  understand  what 
others  were  saying.  She  afterwards  became  his 
wife,  and  helped  him  with  his  telephone. 

Work  on  the  telephone  was  done  by  the  in- 
ventor at  odd  hours,  after  he  had  finished  his 
day's  teaching.  He  w^as  very  poor,  and  could  not 
afford  to  buy  material  or  tools.  The  first  telephone 
was  made  out  of  an  old  cigar-box,  two  hundred 
feet  of  wire,  and  two  magnets  taken  from  a  toy 
fish  pond. 

But  the  inventor  kept  on  working,  and,  the  year 
after  the  Centennial,  the  telephone  was  put  into 
practical  use  by  the  public.  People  at  first  thought 
it  was  a  luxury,  and  they  were  slow  to  adopt  it. 
But,  nowadays,  it  has  become  a  household  con- 
venience and  a  business  necessity.  We  speak  from 
one  city  to  another,  and  even  across  the  continent. 
It  is  no  longer  regarded  as  a  toy,  but  it  has  been 
added  to  the  long  list  of  American  inventions  that 
facilitate  business  and  make  life  more  comfortable. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  405 


THOMAS  A.  EDISON,  THE   GREAT 
INVENTOR 

The  story  of  our  great  inventors  would  not  be 
complete  without  telling  about  Edison,  the  greatest 
of  them  all.  When  he  was  a  boy,  he  sold  papers 
for  a  while  on  a  train.  On  one  occasion,  while  he 
was  standing  at  a  station,  he  saw  a  little  child 
playing  on  the  track.  Just  at  that  moment,  a 
train  came  thundering  along.  Edison  jumped  on 
the  track,  in  front  of  the  moving  engine,  and 
rescued  the  child.  The  father  was  the  telegraph 
operator  at  the  station.  To  show  his  gratitude, 
he  offered  to  teach  telegraphy  to  the  young 
newsboy. 

In  a  few  years,  Edison  became  a  swift  and 
competent  operator.  He  was  offered  employment 
in  a  Boston  office.  \Mien  he  appeared,  dressed  in 
shabby  clothes,  for  he  was  very  poor,  the  other 
operators  in  the  room  made  fun  of  him.  But  Edi- 
son did  not  care,  and  took  his  place  at  his  desk. 
In  a  short  time,  an  operator  from  New  York, 
noted  for  his  swiftness,  called  up  the  Boston 
office. 

"Let  the  new  man  take  the  message,"  said  the 


406  AMERICA   FIRST 


chief.  He  desired  to  try  out  Edison,  of  whose 
abihty  he  knew  nothing. 

Edison  sat  down,  and  for  four  hours  and  a  half 
WTote  the  message,  as  it  came  over  the  wire.  Not 
once  did  he  ask  the  operator  to  go  more  slowly, 
but  kept  up  w4th  him  easily.  Faster  and  faster 
ticked  the  instrument,  while  Edison's  fingers  flew 
over  the  pages,  taking  down  every  word  as  it 
came. 

The  other  operators  gathered  around  in  amaze- 
ment to  see  this  exhibition  of  speed.  Edison  paid 
no  attention  to  them. 

At  the  end  of  a  long  period,  the  operator  send- 
ing the  message  inquired  over  the  wire, 

''Wlio  are  you  taking  this  message?"  Edison 
replied,  "I  am  Thomas  A.  Edison,  the  new 
operator." 

*'You  are  the  first  man  in  the  country,"  was 
the  reply,  "who  could  ever  take  me  at  my  fastest, 
and  the  only  one  who  could  sit  at  the  other  end 
of  my  wire  for  more  than  two  hours  and  a  half. 
I  am  proud  to  know  you." 

All  the  time  that  Edison  was  an  operator,  his 
mind  was  busy  on  inventions  and  improvements. 
WTien  he  was  seventeen,  he  invented  the  duplex 
telegraph,  by  which  several  messages  could  be  sent 
on   the   same  wire  at  the   same  time,  even   in   op- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  407 

posite  directions,  without  causing  any  confusion. 
This  was  a  great  saving  of  time. 

Shortly  afterwards,  he  went  to  New  York,  where 
he  soon  became  known  as  an  electrical  expert. 
The  first  invention  that  brought  him  any  consider- 
able money  was  the  ticker  for  stock-brokers'  offices. 
Tliis  ticker  was  an  electrical  machine  for  recording 
quotations  in  the  stock  market.  He  was  paid 
forty  thousand  dollars  for  this  invention. 

He  next  persuaded  some  men  in  New  York  to 
furnish  the  money  for  him  to  experiment  in  mak- 
ing a  lamp  for  the  electric  light.  They  agreed  to 
pay  all  his  expenses,  and,  if  it  was  a  success,  they 
were  to  share  in  the  profits.  Edison  moved  to 
Menlo  Park,  New  Jersey,  and  opened  a  little  shop 
and  laboratory. 

After  awhile,  he  announced  that  he  had  made 
an  electric  lamp  that  would  burn,  and  soon  had 
eighty  electric  lights  in  Menlo  Park.  This  was 
very  promising,  and  everybody  was  greatly  in- 
terested in  the  results.  Suddenly,  the  lamps  went 
out,  and  Edison  w^as  much  discouraged,  but  he 
was  not  the  man  to  give  up. 

For  five  days  and  nights  he  remained  at  his 
laboratory,  sleeping  only  a  few  hours  at  a  time. 
The  world  declared  the  electric  lamps  a  failure. 
One  prominent  man  said  they  could  not  be  made. 


408  AMERICA  FIRST 


"I  will  make  a  statue  of  that  man,  and  light  it 
with  electric  lights,  and  put  a  sign  on  it,  saying 
'Here  is  the  man  that  said  the  Edison  lamp  will 
not  burn,'"  was  the  inventor's  reply. 

After  much  hard  labor,  Edison  discovered  that 
the  reason  why  his  lamp  would  not  burn  was  be- 
cause the  air  had  not  been  sufficiently  exhausted 
from  the  glass  bulbs.  So  he  set  about  remedying 
the  defect,  after  which  the  lamps  burned  brightly 
and  lasted  a  long  time.  Now,  all  the  world  uses 
electric  light. 

Edison  invented  the  first  electric  railway,  and 
because  of  him  the  electric  cars  are  used  on  the 
streets  of  nearly  every  city,  large  and  small.  He 
invented  the  phonograph  for  recording  and  repro- 
ducing sound.  He  also  invented  the  kinetoscope, 
which  was  the  beginning  of  the  moving  pictures. 

Many  other  inventions  have  been  made  by  him; 
so  many,  indeed,  that  he  has  accumulated  a  large 
fortune,  and  is  known  as  "The  Wizard  of  Menlo 
Park,"  though  his  laboratories  are  now  at  Orange, 
New  Jersey. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  no  other  inventor  has 
produced  so  many  things  that  have  added  to  the 
comfort  and  pleasure  of  the  world  as  Thomas  A. 
Edison. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  409 


CLARA  BARTON  AND  THE  RED  CROSS 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  a  young 
woman  who  was  a  clerk  in  the  Patent  Office,  at 
Washington,  gave  up  her  position,  and  volunteered 
to  nurse  soldiers  without  pay.  She  knew  that  the 
sick,  wounded,  and  dying  men  would  need  the 
comfort  that  only  a  woman's  hand  can  give.  Her 
name  was  Clara  Barton.  She  did  not  go  to  hos- 
pitals, where  it  was  safe  for  her  to  be,  but  she 
went  on  the  battlefields,  where  the  awful  carnage 
of  death  was  around  her.    . 

Inspired  by  her  example,  other  women  under- 
took the  same  work,  some  going  to  the  hospitals, 
and  others  following  the  armies,  but  all  nursing 
the  sick,  comforting  the  dying,  and  keeping  their 
last  messages  for  the  loved  ones  at  home. 

After  the  war,  Clara  Barton  went  to  Europe. 
In  1859,  one  hot  day  in  summer,  there  was  fought 
the  great  battle  of  Solferino,  at  the  end  of  which 
more  than  thirty-five  thousand  men  lay  dead  and 
wounded  on  the  field  of  battle.  There  was  no  aid 
for  them.  For  hours  and  even  days  they  lay 
where  they  had  fallen.  A  Swiss,  by  the  name  of 
Henri  Dunant,  visited  the  battlefield,  and  was  so 


410  AMERICA  FIRST 


overcome  by  its  horrors  that  he  wrote  circular 
letters,  and  delivered  lectures,  calling  upon  all 
nations  to  form  some  sort  of  a  society  to  relieve 
the  distress  of  the  wounded. 

"If  nations  will  go  to  war,  then  there  should  be 
some  means  to  help  those  who  suffer  by  it.  I  call 
upon  all  nations  to  send  representatives  to  Geneva, 
Switzerland,  in  order  to  estabhsh  a  society  for  this 
purpose,"  said  he. 

The  conference  met,  and  formed  an  organiza- 
tion, which  had  for  its  purpose  the  care  of  the  sick 
and  wounded  on  the  battlefield  and  in  hospitals. 
The  society  adopted  a  badge,  or  flag,  which  was 
a  red  cross  on  a  white  ground.  This  was  done  in 
compliment  to  the  Swiss  Republic,  whose  flag  was 
a  white  cross  on  a  red  ground.  The  organization 
soon  became  known  as  The  Red  Cross  Society. 
Many  nations  signed  an  agreement  to  respect  the 
principals  of  this  Society. 

^Mien  Clara  Barton,  who  was  in  Switzerland, 
recovering  her  health,  heard  of  this  society,  she 
was  filled  with  joy  and  hope.  It  was  the  kind  of 
work  she  most  loved,  and  she  resolved  to  give  her 
whole  life  to  the  Red  Cross. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Franco-Prussian  War, 
in  1870,  Clara  Barton  saw  her  opportunity  for 
service.     After  the  siege   of   Strasburg,  there   were 


She  spoke  to  them  in  hopeful  tones.'* 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  411 

twenty  thousand  people  without  homes  and  em- 
ployment, and  starvation  threatened  them  all. 
Clara  Barton  secured  materials  for  thirty  thousand 
garments,  and  gave  them  out  to  the  poor  women 
of  the  city  to  be  made  up.  She  paid  good  wages 
for  the  work.  Everywhere  she  went,  the  soldiers 
and  people  lent  a  helping  hand. 

After  the  war,  the  city  of  Paris  was  in  the 
hands  of  lawless  men  of  the  lowest  character.  The 
Army  of  the  Republic  besieged  the  city,  and  the 
most  dreadful  scenes  of  conflict  occurred.  There 
was  fighting  on  the  streets,  and  many  innocent 
persons  were  killed.  In  the  midst  of  these  horrors, 
Clara  Barton  entered  the  city  on  foot,  and  began 
her  work  of  helping  the  sick  and  wounded. 

One  day,  a  great  crowd  surged  through  the 
streets  of  Paris,  crying  for  bread.  The  soldiers 
were  powerless  before  such  a  mob.  Clara  Barton 
raised  her  head  as  if  to  speak  to  them.  The 
crowd  stopped,  and  she  spoke  in  calm  and  hopeful 
words.  In  the  end,  they  cried  out,  "It  is  an  angel 
that  speaks  to  us,"  and  quietly  went  back  to  their 
homes. 

When  the  war  was  over,  there  were  removed 
from  Paris  ten  thousand  wounded  men,  who  other- 
wise would  have  suffered  and  perhaps  died  through 
lack  of  care.     All  this  was  done  by  the  Red  Cross 


41^2  AMERICA  FIRST 


Society,    working    under    the    direction    of    Clara 

Barton. 

She  now  returned  to  America,  to  found  a  similar 
society  in  this  country.  It  was  not  until  188^  that 
the  United  States  signed  the  treaty  of  Geneva, 
and  joined  the  family  of  nations  in  this  great  work. 
The  American  plan,  however,  went  further  in  its 
purpose  than  relief  in  times  of  war.  It  included 
rehef  for  the  distressed  at  any  time,  and  to  meet 
any  calamity,  such  as  earthquake,  flood,  fire,  and 
pestilence.  Clara  Barton  was  the  first  President 
of  the  American  Red  Cross. 

A  great  fire  swept  through  the  forests  of  Michi- 
gan. For  many  days,  it  raged  in  unchecked  fury. 
Homes,  farms,  woods,  were  swept  away,  and  thou- 
sands of  people  were  left  homeless  and  penniless. 
The  Red  Cross  Society  was  there  promptly  with 
its  offers  of  relief.  The  call  for  aid  went  forth, 
and  supplies  poured  in  from  every  direction,  until 
eighty  thousand  dollars  in  money,  food,  and  cloth- 
ing were  available  for  the  suffering  people  of 
Michigan. 

Then  came  floods  along  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi 
rivers,  fearful  cyclones  in  the  West,  an  earthquake 
in  South  Carolina,  and  a  long  and  terrible  drought 
in  Texas.  To  them  all  the  Red  Cross  went,  with 
Clara  Barton  as  its  inspiration. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  413 

In  1889,  the  city  of  Johnstown,  Pennsylvania, 
was  swept  away  by  a  flood,  caused  by  the  break- 
ing of  a  dam.  Nearly  five  thousand  lives  were 
lost,  and  twelve  million  dollars  worth  of  property 
was  destroyed.  It  was  a  most  dreadful  calamity. 
Hardly  had  the  news  reached  the  country,  before 
Clara  Barton  and  the  Red  Cross  were  in  Johns- 
town, organizing  relief  for  the  severely  stricken 
people.  For  five  months  she  stayed  amid  those 
scenes  of  desolation  and  woe. 

'*The  first  to  come  and  the  last  to  go,"  said  one 
of  the  newspapers,  "she  has  indeed  been  an  elder 
sister  to  us  —  nursing,  tending,  caring  for  the 
stricken  ones  through  a  season  of  distress  such  as 
no  other  people  may  ever  know." 

Wlien  the  war  with  Spain  occurred,  Clara  Bar- 
ton was  seventy  years  old,  but  she  went  to  Cuba, 
and  did  heroic  work  there.  At  the  time  of  the 
Galveston  flood,  she  w^as  eighty  years  old,  but  she 
went  to  that  stricken  community,  and  for  many 
days  labored  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  the  people. 

The  American  Red  Cross  has  grown  into  a  very 
large  and  useful  society,  and  has  many  thousands 
of  members.  It  has  contributed  a  great  deal  of 
money  to  a  suffering  world.  For  the  victims  in  the 
Japanese  famine,  it  contributed  nearly  a  quarter  of 
a  million  dollars.     For  those  rendered  homeless  by 


414  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


the  eruption  of  Mt.  Vesuvius,  in  1905,  it  gave 
twelve  thousand  dollars.  For  the  sufferers  in  the 
great  California  earthquake,  in  1906,  it  gave  more 
than  three  million  dollars.  AMierever  humanity  has 
a  need,  wherever  it  raises  a  cry  for  help,  the  Red 
Cross  holds  out  its  hand  in  relief  and  comfort. 

In  the  recent  World  War,  the  American  Red 
Cross  sent  its  workers  into  the  home  camps,  and 
overseas,  to  be  with  the  soldiers  in  time  of  need. 
Whatever  the  men  desired  in  the  way  of  comfort 
and  help,  which  the  Government  could  not  supply, 
the  Red  Cross  was  ready  and  willing  to  give.  Its 
doctors,  nurses,  and  directors  numbered  many 
thousands.  W^hat  they  did  for  the  wounded  and 
the  dying  will  be  the  subject  of  many  an  inspiring 
story  for  years  to  come. 


HOBSON  AND  THE  MERRIMAC 

The  War  with  Spain  was  undertaken  for  the 
purpose  of  delivering  Cuba  from  the  oppressive 
rule  of  Spain.  It  was  therefore  natural  that  the 
main  object  of  the  United  States  Government 
should  be  to  drive  the  Spaniards  from  that  island. 

When  the  war  began,  there  was  some  uncer- 
tainty as  to  the  size  and  strength  of  the  Spanish 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  415 

navy.  We  knew  that  Spain  had  fine  battleships, 
but  we  did  not  know  how  they  were  equipped  and 
manned,  or  what  training  their  gunners  possessed. 
It  was  feared  that  the  Spanish  fleet  might  appear 
off  the  Atlantic  Coast,  and  bombard  New  York  or 
Boston.  As  it  turned  out,  we  can  now  afford  to 
laugh  at  such  foolish  fears. 

The  Spanish  navy  was  under  command  of  Ad- 
miral Cervera.  Our  own  fleet  hunted  for  weeks, 
before  it  was  discovered  that  the  Spaniards  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  harbor  of  Santiago.  Imme- 
diately, the  American  fleet  blockaded  the  harbor 
so  that  the  Spanish  boats  could  not  get  out.  The 
Spanish  admiral  knew  the  weakness  of  his  vessels. 
He  had  five  ships,  but  his  crews  were  not  trained, 
and  his  gunners  had  but  little  practice;  they  were 
by  no  means  the  equal  of  the  American  marksmen. 

Days  and  wrecks  passed  in  idleness.  Cervera  re- 
fused to  come  out,  and  the  American  Commanders 
guarded  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  day  and  night. 
It  was  feared  that  the  Spanish  ships  would  slip 
out  under  cover  of  darkness,  and  be  free  to  inflict 
damage  along  the  United  States  coast  before  they 
could  be  destroyed.  But  they  did  not  attempt  to 
offer  battle  to  the  American  fleet. 

To  prevent  their  escape,  a  daring  exploit  was 
planned   by  Lieutenant   Richard   P.    Hobson.     He 


416  AMERICA  FIRST 


proposed  to  sink  the  collier,  Merrimac,  in  the  chan- 
nel of  the  harbor  so  as,  effectually,  to  prevent  any 
ships  from  passing  in  or  out.  Lieutenant  Hobson, 
with  seven  companions,  started  out  on  the  collier, 
in  the  dead  of  night,  and  slowly  steamed  away. 

Wien  the  Spaniards  discovered  the  approach  of 
the  collier,  they  opened  fire  upon  her  from  the 
shore  batteries  on  both  sides.  It  seemed  that  the 
shells  must  certainly  pierce  her  through  and 
through.  Escape  for  the  men  aboard  appeared 
impossible. 

But  they  were  cool-headed  and  kept  on  until 
they  reached  the  desired  position.  Just  before 
they  were  ready  to  sink  the  collier,  and  take  to 
their  boats,  the  rudder  of  the  Merrimac  was  shot 
away.  Hence,  she  sank  diagonally  instead  of 
across  the  channel.  The  position  of  the  wreck  did 
not  entirely  block  the  entrance;  it  left  a  passage 
open  for  the  unfortunate  dash  for  liberty  which 
was  made  later  by  the  Spanish  fleet. 

\Mien  the  Merrimac  was  sunk  in  the  channel, 
Hobson  and  his  men  took  to  a  raft,  and  there  they 
clung  till  morning.  It  was  impossible  to  escape 
the  searching  fire  of  the  enemy,  afloat  as  they  were 
in  the  open  harbor.  But,  when  day  came,  and  the 
Spaniards  saw  their  helpless  plight,  they  sent  a 
boat  out  and  took  them  prisoners.     Admiral  Cer- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  417 

vera,  himself,  helped  lift  Hobson  out  of  the  water, 
and  was  so  filled  with  admiration  for  his  daring 
that  he  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  the  American  fleet 
with  the  news  that  all  the  men  were  safe  in  his 
hands. 

The  prisoners  were  treated  with  great  respect, 
and,  later,  were  exchanged  for  a  number  of  Spanish 
prisoners,  held  by  our  forces. 


DEWEY  AT  MANILA  BAY 

The  beautiful  islands,  known  as  the  Philippines, 
were  the  possession  of  Spain.  When  war  between 
that  country  and  the  United  States  seemed  in- 
evitable. Commodore  George  Dewey  was  ordered 
to  collect  a  fleet  at  Hong-Kong,  and  hold  it  in 
readiness  for  instant  action. 

Nothing  suited  Dewey  better.  He  purchased  a 
large  supply  of  coal  and  provisions,  called  for  a  few 
more  ships,  collected  stores  of  ammunition,  and 
put  his  men  under  strict  orders.  By  April,  of 
1898,  he  found  himself  in  command  of  a  fleet  of 
nine  ships,  ready  for  battle,  and  quietly  awaiting 
orders. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  He  received  a  cable- 
gram from  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  "War  has 


418  AMERICA  FIRST 


commenced  between  the  United  States  and  Spain. 
Proceed  at  once  to  the  Phihppine  Islands.  Cap- 
ture vessels  or  destroy  them.  Use  utmost  en- 
deavors." 

Dewey  smiled  with  deep  satisfaction.  The 
chance  of  a  lifetime  had  come,  and  he  was  ready. 
He  issued  orders  to  sail  at  once,  and  the  very 
next  day  the  fleet  began  its  long  voyage  of  six 
hundred  miles  to  the  Philippines.  For  three  days 
and  three  nights  they  struggled  through  a  boister- 
ous sea,  before  they  reached  the  mouth  of  Manila 
Bay. 

This  bay  is  a  very  beautiful  harbor.  Two  small 
islands  stand  like  sentries  at  its  mouth,  with  their 
chffs  rising  five  hundred  feet  above  the  water.  On 
those  chffs,  as  well  as  on  other  points  of  the  main- 
land, were  forts  bristling  with  guns.  Twenty-five 
miles  up  the  bay,  lay  Manila,  the  capital  of  the 
Philippines,  Vvdth  its  quarter  of  a  miUion  inhabit- 
ants. Its  low-lying  ground,  intersected  with  many 
water-ways,  made  it  known  as  the  Venice  of  the 
East.  It  was  Dewey's  purpose  to  enter  the  Bay 
of  Manila  and  to  find  the  Spanish  fleet  there. 

Night  had  fallen  on  April  30,  1898.  As  silent 
as  ghosts,  with  all  lights  out,  and  in  close  order, 
the  American  battleships  crept  through  the  chan- 
nel  under   the   frowning   forts.     The   moon,    rising 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  419 


over  the  eastern  waters,  gave  the  ships  the  appear- 
ance of  gray  spectres  ghding  in  a  smooth  sea.  "I 
beheve  they  will  not  see  us,"  remarked  an  officer 
quietly,  to  the  watchful  Commander.  "Evidently 
they  are  not  expecting  us  so  soon." 

The  ships  were  now  half-way  in  the  channel, 
and  opposite  the  forts.  Suddenly,  a  shot  from  a 
shore  battery  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night. 
Then  another  and  another  were  fired  in  quick  suc- 
cession. The  fleet  answ^ered  at  once,  and  put  on 
full  steam  ahead,  for  there  was  no  longer  any  need 
of  concealment.  In  a  short  while,  the  danger- 
point  was  passed,  no  damage  was  done,  and  the 
fleet  was  on  its  way  up  the  bay  to  Manila,  and  to 
the  Spanish  men-of-w^ar. 

All  night  long  the  fleet  steamed  forward,  silently 
and  slowly.  The  rising  moon  made  a  silver  path 
over  the  waters.  The  tropical  breeze  fanned  slowly 
over  the  decks,  and  the  hills  loomed  dark  against 
the  sky  line.  There  was  nothing  on  this  beautiful 
night  to  indicate  the  approach  of  one  of  the  deci- 
sive battles  of  modern  history. 

The  next  morning,  the  ever-memorable  first  day 
of  May,  the  vigilant  American  Commander  saw 
what  he  was  looking  for  —  the  Spanish  fleet,  lying 
close  under  the  guns  of  Cavite,  a  small  town  a  few 
miles  from  Manila. 


420  AMERICA  FIRST 


"The  hour  has  come,"  said  Dewey.  "Nothing 
can  prevent  a  battle.  They  cannot  escape  us,  for 
we  command  the  outlet  of  the  harbor.  It  is  their 
day  or  ours."  Whereupon  he  gave  orders  for  im- 
mediate action. 

With  Dewey  there  were  nine  vessels,  only  six  of 
w^hich  were  to  be  engaged  in  battle,  the  others 
being  supply  ships  and  a  revenue  cutter.  The 
best  vessel  of  the  American  fleet  was  The  Olyvipia, 
the  flagship.  The  Spanish  fleet  numbered  ten,  the 
largest  of  which  was  the  Reina  Cristina.  None  of 
the  Spanish  ships  could  be  compared  in  size  and 
strength  with  Dewey's  The  Olympia. 

The  two  fleets  were  well  matched,  both  being 
equipped  with  modern  guns,  about  equal  in  num- 
ber, as  well  as  having  about  the  same  number  of 
men.  The  advantage  was  slightly  with  the  Ameri- 
cans, but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Spanish  fleet  was 
backed  up  by  the  shore  batteries  at  Cavite. 

"Order  the  supply-ship  out  of  range,  place  the 
fleet  in  line  of  battle,  and  prepare  for  immediate 
action,"  directed  the  Commander.  It  was  then 
about  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Promptly  the  American  fleet  swung  into  line, 
and  moved  toward  the  enemy.  The  Spanish  guns 
opened  on  them  as  they  approached,  but  they 
gave  no  reply.      Silently  and  steadily  they  came 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  421 

nearer  and  nearer,  until  within  a  range  of  five 
thousand  yards. 

Dewey  turned  to  the  Captain  of  The  Olympia,  and 
said,   ''If  you  are  ready,  Gridley,  you  may  fire." 

The  American  ships  now  formed  in  a  half  circle, 
swinging  before  the  massed  enemy.  An  eight-inch 
shell  from  The  Olympia  sped  across  the  water 
toward  the  Spanish  flagship.  A  little  later  on,  the 
order  to  open  with  all  the  guns  brought  every 
ship  into  action,  as  the  fleet  moved  forward  in  a 
graceful  curve.  A  terrific  fire  from  the  Spanish 
fleet  and  forts  vv^as  the  answer,  and  the  battle  of 
Manila  Bay  had  begun. 

Again  and  again  the  great  American  battleships 
swept  around,  pouring  a  deadly  fire  into  the 
Spanish  vessels,  coming  each  time  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  doing  more  and  more  damage.  In  the 
midst  of  the  action,  the  Spanish  flagship,  Reina 
Cristina,  moved  out  to  give  battle  to  The  Olympia. 
Dewey  concentrated  all  the  fire  of  his  whole  fleet 
upon  her.  Amidst  an  awful  raking  of  shells,  the 
Spanish  vessel  halted,  broken  and  torn,  and  turned 
to  flee.  She  was  hardly  able  to  struggle  back  to 
her  companions;  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  her 
crew  lay  dead  or  wounded  upon  her  shattered 
decks. 

Five  times  did  the  American  fleet  swing  past  thfc 


422  AMERICA  FIRST 


enemy,  each  time  doing  more  deadly  work  than 
before.  Then  Dewey  drew  his  fleet  off  to  the  op- 
posite shore,  to  prepare  for  the  final  engagement. 
The  foolish  Spaniards  thought  he  had  withdrawn 
entu^ely,  and  cabled  to  Madrid  that  the  battle  was 
over,  and  that  Dewey  had  retired  to  bury  his 
dead.     They  were  soon  to  find  out  otherwise. 

The  men  ate  breakfast,  and  then  brought  up 
fresh  supplies  of  ammunition.  The  decks  were 
cleaned,  the  guns  examined,  and  at  eleven  o'clock 
came  the  order  to  continue  the  battle.  Slow^ly 
the  American  fleet  swung  around  in  its  half  circle 
and  began  its  destructive  work.  One  by  one  the 
Spanish  ships  went  down,  until  the  whole  fleet  was 
utterly  destroyed.  In  a  few  hours  the  battle  of 
Manila  Bay  was  over. 

Admiral  Montojo,  the  Spanish  Commander,  es- 
caped by  land  to  Manila,  while  Dewey  was  de- 
stroying the  shore  batteries  with  the  unerring 
marksmanship  of  his  gunners. 

The  victory  was  complete.  The  Spaniards  lost 
every  ship  of  their  fleet,  and  six  hundred  and 
thirty -four  men  in  killed  and  wounded.  The  Ameri- 
can ships  were  not  seriously  damaged,  not  a  man 
had  been  killed,  and  only  eight  had  been  wounded. 
The  Spanish  rule  of  three  and  a  half  centuries  in 
the  Philippines  was  broken  forever! 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  423 


CONQUERING  THE  YELLOW  FEVER 

There  was  an  enemy  that  for  hundreds  of  years 
no  one  learned  to  conquer.  Its  presence  spread 
terror  wherever  it  appeared.  It  lurked  in  Southern 
cities,  but,  often,  it  stalked  broadcast  over  the 
whole  country,  scattering  death  wherever  it  came. 
That  enemy  was  the  yellow  fever. 

Its  ravages  had  been  endured  with  hopeless  de- 
spair, with  no  chance  to  escape  but  in  flight;  and, 
often,  flight  was  denied  to  those  who  hved  in  the 
stricken  districts.  Quarantine  was  rigidly  enforced. 
So  terrifled  were  those  who  lived  in  the  uninfected 
regions,  that  refugees  from  yellow  fever  cities  were 
turned  back  by  loaded  shot-guns. 

Household  goods  were  destroyed,  bedding  and 
clothing  and  even  houses  w^ere  burned,  to  prevent 
the  spread  of  the  disease.  Yet  it  was  only  held 
in  check,  and  the  people  continued  to  live  in  terror 
of  it.  Just  the  announcement  that  yellow  fever 
had  appeared  in  a  town  was  enough  to  make  the 
bravest  heart  turn  sick  with  the  awful  conse- 
quence of  the  horror  it  might  mean. 

Yellow  fever  had  always  been  present  in  Cuba. 
Ships  from  that  island  brought  it  into  Southern 


424  AMERICA   FIRST 


cities,  and  the  contagion,  once  started,  went  on  its 
ravages  for  months  at  a  time.  When  Cuba  was 
occupied  by  the  United  States,  the  problem  of  the 
yellow  fever  was  in  the  hands  of  our  Government. 

Our  soldiers  were  going  into  Cuba,  and  it  was 
said  that  those  who  went  would  sooner  or  later 
have  the  fever.  Many  lives  were  thus  imperilled. 
It  was  for  our  Government  to  find  out  what  meas- 
ures could  be  taken  to  save  the  men. 

A  Board  of  Medical  Commissioners  was  ap- 
pointed to  go  to  Cuba  and  investigate  the  yellow 
fever.  Of  this  Board,  Major  Walter  Reed,  an 
army  surgeon,  was  appointed  chairman.  Major 
Reed  had  never  had  the  fever,  but  he  w^as  too 
brave  an  oflficer  and  too  devoted  a  surgeon  to  do 
otherwise  than  welcome  this  opportunity  for  service. 

He  had  to  deal  with  a  treacherous  enemy,  that 
stalked  up  and  down  in  the  dark,  attacking  its 
unsuspecting  victims.  No  one  knew  how  it  came, 
or  by  what  means  it  spread.  It  was  found  wher- 
ever filth  and  darkness  prevailed,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  filth  disease. 

"The  first  thing  we  will  do  will  be  to  clean  up 
Havana,  and  not  leave  any  place  for  fever  germs 
to  lurk,"  said  Major  Reed.  « 

For  a  year  and  a  half  the  most  rigid  sanitary 
measures  were  enforced.     Deaths  from  other  causes 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  425 

were  reduced,  but  yellow  fever  went  on  its  way 
unchecked.  Plainly  it  was  not  a  filth  disease.  Dr. 
Carlos  Finlay,  a  physician  in  Cuba,  offered  the 
suggestion  that  the  fever  might  be  carried  by  the 
bite  of  a  mosquito.  The  other  members  of  the 
Commission  scoffed  at  the  idea. 

''Everything  else  has  failed  in  explaining  why 
the  disease  spreads.  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should 
scoff  at  this  idea,"  remarked  Dr.  Reed.  ''It  is  cer- 
tainly worth  investigating." 

There  was  but  one  way  to  find  out,  and  that 
was  for  those  who  had  not  had  the  fever  to  be 
bitten  by  a  mosquito  that  had  come  from  the  body 
of  a  yellow  fever  patient.  The  members  of  the 
Commission  tried  the  experiment  on  themselves. 
Dr.  Carroll  w^as  bitten  by  an  infected  mosquito, 
took  the  fever,  and  came  near  dying.  Dr.  Lazear 
allowed  himself  to  be  bitten  by  a  mosquito,  took 
the  disease  in  its  worst  form,  and  died  a  martyr  to 
the  cause  of  science. 

"It  seems  that  we  must  try  this  experiment  on 
a  large  scale,  and  build  special  houses  for  the  pur- 
pose," said  Dr.  Reed  to  the  Commission.  "I  am 
beginning  to  think  the  mosquito  has  much  to  do 
with  it." 

An  experiment  camp  was  therefore  built,  named 
"Camp  Lazear"  in  honor  of  the  dead  doctor  who 


426  AMERICA  FIRST 


had  sacrificed  his  hfe  in  the  cause  of  investigation. 
Two  houses  were  erected.  One  was  filled  with  in- 
fected clothing,  soiled  articles,  bedding,  and  every- 
thing that  could  possibly  spread  the  disease  from 
one  person  to  another.  All  mosquitoes  were  care- 
fully excluded  from  this  building.  Nothing  was  left 
to  carry  the  disease,  but  the  clothing  and  bedding. 

The  other  building  was  clean,  airy,  free  from 
infected  articles  of  any  kind.  But  inside  the 
screens  were  placed  a  number  of  mosquitoes  that 
w^ere  known  to  be  infected.  Then  came  the  call 
for  volunteers.     Dr.  Reed  addressed  the  soldiers: 

'*Men,  I  shall  not  detail  anyone  to  enter  these 
wards.  I  am  asking  for  volunteers.  Dr.  Lazear 
has  just  died  from  the  results  of  an  experiment. 
It  may  mean  death  to  some  of  you,  but  it  may 
mean  the  saving  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
others." 

One  by  one  the  soldier  boys  volunteered,  until 
Dr.  Reed  had  enough  for  his  purpose.  He  ex- 
plained to  them  their  danger  and  their  duties.  He 
then  offered  to  each  one  a  sum  of  money.  "We 
take  no  money  for  this,"  they  replied.  "It  is  a 
condition  of  our  going  that  we  receive  no  pay." 

"Gentlemen,  I  salute  you  in  the  name  of  hu- 
manity and  your  own  great  Government,"  said  Dr. 
Reed. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  427 

For  twenty  days  and  nights,  the  men  hved  in 
their  different  quarters.  In  the  clothes-infected 
house  the  men  slept  in  the  yellow  fever  beds, 
handled  the  clothing  of  patients,  and  breathed  the 
air  that  had  passed  over  infected  articles.  Not 
one  of  them  took  the  fever. 

In  the  other  house,  clean,  sweet,  airy,  but  full 
of  mosquitoes,  ten  out  of  thirteen  came  down  with 
the  fever,  but  the  cases  w^ere  Hght  and  not  one  of 
them  died. 

The  experiment  proved  conclusively  that  yellow 
fever  was  carried  by  the  bite  of  a  female  mosquito, 
which  had  previously  bitten  a  yellow  fever  patient. 
It  was  not  carried  by  the  clothing,  and  it  did  not 
infect  the  house.  Its  spread  could  be  controlled 
by  killing  the  mosquito,  or  by  screening  the  sick- 
room. 

Dr.  Reed  died  shortly  after  he  had  announced 
the  results  of  his  investigations.  In  a  letter  to  his 
wife,  he  wrote, 

"The  prayer  that  has  been  mine  for  twenty 
years,  that  I  might  be  permitted  in  some  way 
and  at  some  time  to  do  something  to  alleviate 
human  suffering,  has  been  granted." 


428  a:merica  first 


THE  SINKING  OF  THE  LUSITANIA 

During  the  World  War,  it  was  the  declared 
policy  of  Germany  to  torpedo  any  vessel  flying  an 
enemy  flag  in  the  waters  adjacent  to  the  British 
Isles,  regardless  of  its  character,  or  who  w^as  on 
board. 

One  bright  morning,  the  first  day  of  May,  1915, 
the  huge  British  liner,  Lusitania,  lay  at  her  dock 
ready  to  sail  from  New  York  to  Liverpool.  Her 
decks  were  crowded  with  passengers.  They  had 
read,  in  the  morning  papers  that  "vessels  flying 
the  flag  of  Great  Britain,  or  any  of  her  Allies,  are 
hable  to  destruction  —  and  that  travelers  sailing  in 
the  war  zone  on  ships  of  Great  Britain  or  her  Allies, 
do  so  at  their  own  risk." 

In  spite  of  this  warning,  the  ship  was  crowded 
with  a  large  and  happy  throng,  who  were  not 
deterred  by  any  threat  of  destruction.  She  steamed 
down  the  harbor  amid  the  waving  of  hands  from 
the  shore,  and  the  sound  of  music  on  her  deck. 
There  were  many  confident  souls  on  board,  but 
along  with  them  were  many  who  were  wondering 
if  destruction  really  lay  in  wait  for  the  great 
vessel. 

The  voyage  was  full  of  pleasure.  The  decks 
were  crowded  with  promenaders,  and  the  smoking- 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  429 


room  and  cabins  were  centers  of  amusement  and 
conversation.  There  was  little  thought  of  danger, 
and  but  few  discussed  the  possibihty  of  the  ship 
being  torpedoed.  It  was  an  event  that  no  one 
wished  to  consider  for  a  moment. 

The  morning  of  May  7  came  with  a  heavy  fog 
over  the  sea.  The  blowing  of  the  siren  awakened 
the  passengers,  and  some  of  them  commented  on 
the  fact,  saying  it  might  attract  the  submarines. 
Later  on  the  fog  hfted,  leaving  the  sky  without  a 
cloud  and  the  sea  as  smooth  as  glass.  The  shores 
of  Ireland  were  in  sight.  Everybody  was  glad 
that  the  voyage  was  nearly  over,  and  that,  in  a 
few  hours,  the  ship  and  its  passengers  would  be 
safe. 

The  morning  passed,  and  the  ship  steamed 
steadily  on.  Luncheon  hour  came,  and  the  pas- 
sengers thronged  below  for  their  midday  meal. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  friendly  shores,  and 
less  and  less  grew  the  danger  that  threatened  the 
vessel.  The  British  flag  was  flying,  as  if  in  de- 
fiance to  the  threat  of  Germany. 

Having  finished  luncheon,  some  of  the  passen- 
gers came  on  deck,  some  went  to  their  rooms  to 
rest,  while  others  turned  to  the  smoking  rooms. 
The  ship  settled  down  to  the  usual  afternoon 
routine. 

At   a   few   minutes   after   two   o'clock,   some   of 


430  AMERICA   FIRST 


the  passengers  saw  what  looked  Hke  a  whale  or 
porpoise,  rising  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to 
starboard.  They  knew  that  it  was  a  submarine, 
but  no  one  dared  name  it.  All  eyes  now  fastened 
in  silence  and  dread  on  the  menace  that  lay  so 
quietly  and  sullenly  in  the  distance. 

Then  a  long  white  line,  making  a  train  of 
bubbles  across  the  water,  started  from  the  black 
object.  It  came  straight  for  the  ship.  No  one 
spoke  until  it  w^as  about  sixty  yards  away.  Then 
some  one  cried  out,  ''It  is  a  torpedo." 

There  was  no  chance  for  the  great  ship  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  Its  movement  was  too  ponderous 
for  the  swiftly  coming  torpedo.  It  was  plain  that 
it  could  not  miss  its  mark.  It  was  aimed  ahead 
of  the  vessel,  and  timed  to  strike  under  the  bridge. 
As  the  missile  of  death  came  nearer,  it  dived,  and 
the  passengers  held  their  breath.  Would  it  hit  or 
would  it  miss.^ 

Suddenly,  there  was  a  terrific  explosion,  and  the 
fore  part  of  the  ship  was  torn  into  great  holes. 
Pieces  of  the  wreckage  came  through  the  upper 
deck,  and  fell  among  the  frightened  passengers. 
Germany  had  carried  out  her  threat,  and  had 
dealt  death  to  the  great  trans-Atlantic  liner! 

There  was  no  second  torpedo;  there  was  no 
need    of    one.     The    boiler    exploded    immediately, 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  431 

and  the  ship  Hsted  heavily  to  starboard.  The 
passengers  rushed  to  the  high  side  of  the  deck  — 
the  port  side.  There  was  such  a  hst  to  starboard 
that  the  Hfe-boats  on  the  port  side  swung  so  far 
in  that  they  could  not  be  launched. 

The  vessel  began  to  settle,  and  the  life -boats  on 
the  starboard  side  were  launched.  The  first  boat 
dropped  clear  of  the  ship,  and  floated  away  with 
no  one  in  it.  One  man  jumped  from  the  deck, 
swam  toward  the  boat,  and  got  in  alone. 

Everyone  w^as  frightened,  but  there  was  no 
panic.  The  cry  was  raised,  "Women  and  children 
first!"  These  were  placed  in  the  life-boats  that 
were  launched.  The  ship  settled  down  on  the 
starboard  side,  and  also  by  the  head.  Those  w^ho 
could  not  get  into  the  life-boats  trusted  to  the  life- 
preservers,  and  made  ready  for  the  plunge  into 
the  cold  water.  The  ofiicers  of  the  ship  acted  with 
bravery  and  coolness,  trying  to  launch  the  life- 
boats and  get  the  w^omen  and  children  into  safety. 
The  wireless  telegraph  apparatus  was  put  out  of 
commission  shortly  after  the  explosion,  but  not 
before  a  distress  message,  calling  for  help,  was  sent 
out  and  answered. 

So  quickly  did  the  ship  sink  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  get  life-preservers  from  the  lower  deck 
cabins.     Many  had  to  leap   into  the  sea  without 


432  AMERICA   FIRST 


them.  The  shock  of  the  cold  water  was  so  be- 
numbing that  those  who  jumped  in  were  not  able 
to  swim,  and  many  of  them  soon  sank  out  of  sight. 

With  one  great  plunge,  the  stricken  vessel,  that 
so  often  had  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  that,  only 
an  hour  before,  was  so  full  of  life  and  power,  sank 
head  foremost  into  the  sea.  A  great  wave,  rushing 
over  her  decks,  cast  the  remaining  passengers  into 
the  water. 

Then  followed  a  scene  of  indescribable  tragedy. 
Two  boats,  full  of  people,  were  overturned.  An- 
other was  swamped  as  the  vessel  went  do\vn,  and 
still  another  w^as  dragged  down  by  catching  in  the 
davits.  The  sea  was  piled  with  wreckage  to  which 
people  were  clinging.  Some  were  struggling  to 
swim,  others  were  depending  on  life-preservers,  all 
were  battling  with  the  weaves  in  mad  endeavor  to 
save  their  lives. 

Women  were  holding  on  to  their  husbands,  while 
both  went  down.  Children  were  floating  helpless, 
trying  to  catch  any  object  and  crying  piteously 
for  their  parents,  before  their  little  mouths  were 
closed  forever. 

One  by  one  they  went  down  beneath  the  cruel 
waves.  Thus,  eleven  hundred  and  fifty-two  were 
drowned.  Of  these,  one  hundred  and  fourteen 
were  known  to  be  American  citizens.      Of  the  two 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  433 

thousand  and  more  passengers,  nine  hundred  and 
fifty-two  were  saved  in  the  hfe-boats  and  on  the 
rafts  picked  up  by  friendly  vessels  that  hastened 
to  the  scene  of  disaster. 

Thus  did  the  German  submarine  carry  out  the 
threat  of  the  German  Government,  and  sink  a 
noble  ship  with  its  precious  freight  of  human  hves. 


THE  LAST  RACE  OF  PRIVATE  TREPTOW 

The  American  soldier  felt  individual  responsi- 
bility in  the  Great  War.  He  was  ready,  by  him- 
self and  alone,  to  do  his  part.  Often  he  showed  the 
spirit  which  meant,  '*It  is  for  me  to  win  this  war, 
right  here  and  now." 

"Over  there,"  it  often  happened  that  through  a 
rain  of  fire  the  soldiers  had  to  carry  messages  from 
the  company  to  the  battalion.  There  was  no  way 
to  get  these  messages  through  except  by  runners, 
and  the  man  who  undertook  the  mission  was  rac- 
ing with  death  as  a  companion. 

It  was  hke  dodging  fate  every  second.  The 
bullets  flew  in  every  direction,  the  air  w^as  full  of 
noise  of  men's  cries  and  of  smoke  and  dust. 

These  messages  were  usually  taken  by  word  of 
mouth,   for  there   was   no   time   to   write;    besides 


434  AMERICA   FIRST 


which,  writing  is  dangerous  if  it  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

Some  of  these  runners  got  through  safely,  and 
delivered  their  message.  Others  never  got  through. 
And  there  were  some  who  crawled  on  over  the 
awful  battlefield,  and  delivered  their  message  with 
dying  lips.     But  they  all  went! 

On  the  day  the  Americans  crossed  the  Ourcq,  a 
terrible  machine-gun  fire  opened  up,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  send  an  important  message  to  the 
battalion  which  was  across  the  field.  The  noise 
was  deafening,  the  danger  great,  the  need  impera- 
tive. The  ofiicer  in  charge  dreaded  to  order  any 
man  to  go.  He  knew  what  it  meant  to  be  sent 
into  the  open  at  that  time.     But  it  had  to  be  done. 

"Send  for  Private  Treptow,  of  Iowa,"  he  called, 
after  much  hesitation.  Treptow  came,  saluted,  and 
waited  attentively  while  the  message  was  delivered 
to  him. 

"You  understand  that  you  are  to  go  across  the 
field,  connect  with  the  battalion,  and  deliver  this 
message  as  I  have  given  it  to  you.^"  said  the 
officer. 

"I  do,  sir,"  rephed  the  intrepid  private,  bowing. 

"You  know  the  importance  of  the  message,  and 
the  great  risk  you  run,  —  and  are  not  afraid.^" 
asked  the  officer. 


STORIES   OF   OUR  OWN   HISTORY  435 


"I  shall  not  fail,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

The  private  saluted,  the  ofBeer  returned  the 
salute,  and  went  to  other  duties,  while  Treptow 
made  ready  to  depart. 

As  he  looked  over  the  field,  and  measured  the 
distance,  it  did  not  seem  so  far  to  that  battalion. 
It  was  a  matter  of  a  few  minutes,  if  tliere  were  no 
snipers  or  machine-guns  lying  in  wait  for  him. 

"Here  goes,"  he  said  to  those  around  him. 
Putting  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes,  and  grasping 
his  gun,  he  stepped  out  of  cover,  and  faced  his 
fate.  There  were  others  to  follow  him  with  the 
same  message,  in  case  he  failed;  for  it  had  to  be 
carried  through  at  any  cost. 

He  began  his  race  against  death.  On  he  went, 
with  the  bullets  tearing  after  him.  Hiding  as  best 
he  could  behind  whatever  cover  the  field  afforded, 
dropping  into  pits  when  there  were  any,  running 
boldly  across  the  open,  he  moved  here  and  there, 
now  up,  now  down  —  a  very  fury  of  fire  about 
him  all  the  time. 

He  ran,  a  prayer  on  his  lips  for  his  loved  ones 
at  home,  and  for  the  safety  of  the  men  dependent 
on  his  message.  A  bullet  tore  through  his  clothes, 
and  made  a  jagged  wound  in  his  side.  But  he 
ran  on.  Another  wound,  and  he  was  faint  from 
loss  of  blood  and  from  the  exertion  of  the  race. 


436  AMERICA   FIRST 


He  was  half-way  over.  He  was  running  now 
with  whatever  spark  of  hfe  there  was  left  in  him. 
Just  as  he  was  nearing  his  goal,  a  German  sniper 
took  careful  aim,  and  a  deadly  bullet  crashed 
through  the  body  of  the  brave  runner.  Private 
Treptow  fell  and  lay  cpite  still.  He  thought  for  a 
moment  of  those  across  the  seas,  and  then  he  did 
not  think  at  all.     He  had  run  his  last  race. 

The  battle  raged  for  awhile,  and  then  passed 
elsewhere.  Over  the  broken,  scarred  field  came 
the  ambulances  to  find  the  wounded,  and  with 
them  were  those  to  bury  the  dead.  The  searchers 
came  to  the  place  where  the  runner  lay. 

"This  is  Private  Treptow,"  said  one.  ''He  was 
sent  across  this  field  yesterday  with  a  message." 

They   lifted   him   up,   and   carried   him   back   of 
the  lines.     They  searched  his   clothes  before  they 
buried  him  to  see  if  they  could  find  anything  to 
send  to  his  family.    In  a  pocket,  there  was  a  diary,  on 
the  first  page  of  which  he  had  written  these  words : 
"America  shall  win  the  war.     Therefore,  I 
will  work,  I  will  save,  I  will  sacrifice,  I 
will  endure,  I  will  fight  cheerfully,  and  do 
my  utmost,  as  though  the  whole  issue  of 
the  struggle  depended  on  me  alone.     My 
pledge." 
And  to  this  he  had  sijrned  his  name. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  437 

When  these  words  were  read  to  the  men  of  his 
company,  many  a  one  had  a  new  vision  of  cour- 
age, and  that  night  many  a  soldier  wrote  the 
same  pledge  on  the  flyleaf  of  his  Bible. 


FRANK  LUKE,  JR.  -  AVIATOR 

The  life  of  an  aviator  is  full  of  danger  and 
adventure;  the  annals  of  the  World  War  are  filled 
with  .'his  exploits.  It  is  the  business  of  the  air- 
craft, its  pilot,  and  observer  to  note  the  enemies' 
positions  and  movements,  to  take  photographs,  to 
direct  the  fire  of  big  guns,  to  bring  down  observa- 
tion balloons,  to  drop  bombs,  and  to  destroy  or 
drive  off  the  enemy's  machines.  The  aviators  fly 
all  the  w^ay  from  a  hundred  feet  to  three  miles 
high,  and  often  at  a  rate  of  a  hundred  miles  an 
hour. 

Frank  Luke,  Jr.,  came  from  Phoenix,  Arizona. 
He  was  twenty  years  old  when  he  entered  the 
service.  He  had  his  training  as  an  aviator,  and 
found  himself  near  Chateau-Thierry,  late  in  July, 
1918.  He  had  an  insatiable  appetite  for  flying, 
and  was  deeply  interested  in  machine-guns  and 
incendiary  bullets. 

About  the  middle  of  August,  the  enemy  planes 


438  AMERICA   FIRST 


were  in  large  number  over  the  sector  where  Lieu- 
tenant Luke's  squadron  w^as  operating.  He  felt 
that  if  he  could  get  across  the  lines  unobserved, 
he  could  take  the  enemy's  formation  unaware,  and 
swoop  upon  the  rear  man  and  shoot  him  down. 

One  day,  he  went  off  alone,  rose  to  a  great 
height,  and  crossed  into  the  enemy's  territory. 
Far  below  him  he  spied  six  machines  getting  ready 
to  land  on  their  own  aerodrome.  The  odds  were 
against  him,  six  to  one,  but  he  was  not  an  aviator 
to  count  the  odds,  and  prepared  for  action. 

He  sw^ooped  dow^n  from  fifteen  thousand  to  three 
thousand  feet  in  one  long  dive,  speeding  at  a  rate 
of  tw^o  hundred  miles  an  hour;  he  closed  in  on 
the  rear  man,  and,  from  a  distance  of  tw^enty 
yards,  sent  him  crashing  dow^n. 

The  enemy  formation  was  taken  completely  by 
surprise.  Before  they  could  realize  what  had 
happened,  or  engage  Luke  in  combat,  he  had 
dropped  to  four  hundred  feet,  had  dodged  all  anti- 
aircraft fire-and  machine-guns,  and  was  oflF  like  a 
rocket  to  his  ow^n  lines. 

On  September  12,  1918,  began  the  St.  Mihiel 
offensive.  At  daybreak,  Luke  rose  in  his  plane, 
and  observed  a  German  balloon  far  to  the  right. 
He  returned  to  his  aerodrome,  and  learned  that 
the  balloon  was  doing  great  damage  by  directing 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  439 

an  enfilading  fire  on  our  advancing  troops.  He 
volunteered  to  destroy  the  balloon,  and  flew  away 
with  his  flying  partner,  Lieutenant  Wehner. 

In  a  short  while,  he  was  seen  to  drop  out  of  the 
clouds,  surprise  the  balloon,  and,  at  the  second 
dive,  he  shot  it  down  in  flames.  Tliis  was  Luke's 
first  experience  with  a  balloon-gun  —  a  gun  de- 
signed to  shoot  a  heavy  incendiary  bullet. 

Two  days  later,  the  enemy  w^ere  keeping  three 
observation  balloons  in  the  air.  They  were  operat- 
ing at  a  low  altitude,  so  low%  indeed,  that  an 
observer  could  not  use  his  parachute  to  escape, 
the  height  not  being  sufficient  for  the  parachute  to 
open  and  land  the  observer  safely.  Luke  volun- 
teered to  destroy  these  balloons,  and  was  sent  out 
with  other  pilots  detailed  for  protection. 

A  few  moments  before  Luke  was  ready  to  shoot 
down  one  of  the  balloons,  his  escort  became  en- 
gaged in  a  fight  w^ith  an  enemy  formation,  and  it 
seemed  hopeless  to  make  the  attack.  Undaunted, 
however,  Luke  darted  in  underneath  the  fight  rag- 
ing above  him  in  the  air,  and,  descending  repeatedly 
on  the  balloon,  sent  it  down  in  flames,  despite  the 
showier  of  machine-gun  bullets  that  rained  around 
him. 

When  he  reached  his  own  lines,  it  w^as  found 
that  his  machine  was  so  riddled  with  holes  that  it 


440  AMERICA   FIRST 


was  on  the  verge  of  a  collapse.  Under  a  little 
more  strain,  it  would  probably  have  fallen  to 
pieces  in  the  air.  "A  narrow  escape,  that,"  was 
all  the  daring  aviator  said,  when  he  looked  at  his 
riddled  plane. 

The  same  afternoon,  he  set  out  to  bring  down 
one  of  the  other  balloons.  Again,  his  escort  was 
engaged  with  the  enemy  aircraft.  Again,  Luke 
dived  under  the  fight  to  attack  his  prey;  but  he 
himself  was  attacked  by  a  formation  of  eight 
enemy  planes.  Diving  with  great  speed  to  the 
level  of  the  balloon,  he  delivered  a  burst  of  ma- 
chine-gun bullets,  saw  the  envelope  blaze  into  fire, 
and  then  escaped  his  pursuers  by  a  zig-zag  course, 
back  to  his  own  aerodrome. 

Day  after  day,  Luke  went  up  for  enemy  planes, 
or  in  search  of  observation  balloons.  Escorting 
patrols  engaged  the  enemy,  w^hile  he  darted  in,  and 
fired  upon  the  balloons,  bringing  them  down  in 
flames,  and  escaping  the  terrible  machine-gun  fire 
from  the  ground. 

In  seventeen  days,  he  brought  down  eighteen 
enemy  machines  and  balloons.  His  name  became 
a  terror  to  the  Huns,  and  they  lived  in  dread  of 
his  daring  attacks  upon  their  observation  balloons. 
The  observers  in  those  balloons  would  frequently 
leap  into  their  parachutes  and  descend  before  Luke 
had  actually  set  fire  to  the  balloons. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  441 

On  September  29,  he  went  out  for  the  purpose 
of  destroying  three  balloons.  On  his  way,  he  flew 
over  an  American  aerodrome  and  dropped  a 
weighted  message,  asking  that  a  sharp  lookout  be 
kept  for  three  German  planes  which  he  had  sighted. 
His  machine  was  then  seen  to  go  over  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  to  rise  to  a  very  high  altitude.  When 
nearly  over  the  three  machines,  he  was  attacked 
by  ten  enemy  planes.  He  engaged  all  of  them, 
single-handed,  and  sent  two  crashing  to  the  ground. 

He  then  dropped  out  of  the  fight,  and  descended 
to  the  level  of  the  balloons,  which  he  shot  down, 
one  after  another  —  all  three  of  them.  This  made 
five  victims  in  one  engagement. 

Now,  the  sad  story  of  his  death  is  to  be  related. 
His  machine,  surrounded  by  a  flock  of  enemy 
planes,  was  forced  to  descend  on  to  Germany  ter- 
ritory. He  was  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  but  was 
full  of  fight  to  the  last.  Drawing  his  pistol,  he 
opened  fire  until  he  was  killed  by  an  overwhelm- 
ing number  of  the  enemy. 

The  Germans  took  his  clothing,  and  rifled  his 
pockets  of  their  contents,  and  left  his  grave  un- 
marked. Months  afterwards,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  village  told  the  Americans  the  story  of  his  last 
brave  fight,  and  showed  them  the  grave  in  which 
the  great  American  ace  was  buried. 


442  AIVIERICA  FIRST 


THE  EXPLOITS  OF  SERGEANT  YORK 

Alvin  York  came  from  the  mountains  of  Ten- 
nessee. He  was  the  second  elder  in  the  Church  of 
Christ  and  Christian  Union.  His  Church  is  op- 
posed to  any  form  of  fighting,  and,  when  York  was 
drafted  into  the  World  War,  the  members  wanted 
him  to  ask  for  exemption  on  the  ground  that 
fighting  was  against  his  conscience. 

But  York's  patriotism  was  as  great  as  his  re- 
hgion.  He  asked  one  of  those  who  had  been  urg- 
ing him,  ''Suppose  some  man  should  come  into 
your  house,  maltreat  your  wife,  and  murder  your 
children,  what  would  you  do.^" 

"I  think  I  would  kill  him,"  was  the  reply. 
After  that  they  let  him  alone.  He  went  to  Camp 
Gordon,  at  Atlanta,  Georgia,  and  began  to  train 
for  a  soldier. 

But  York  was  still  troubled  about  war  and  the 
killing  of  men.  His  religious  convictions  worried 
him  a  great  deal,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his 
country  was  at  war.  He  often  discussed  the  matter 
with  his  Captain,  and  they  read  the  Bible  together, 
sometimes  far  into  the  night. 

At  last,  after  one  long  talk,  and  the  reading  of 


STORIES   OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  443 

many  passages  of  Scripture  bearing  on  the  sub- 
ject, York  was  convinced  by  Captain  Danforth 
that  the  killing  of  one's  enemies  was  in  accordance 
with  the  teachings  of  the  Bible. 

*'A11  right,"  exclaimed  the  big  mountaineer,  *'I 
am  satisfied."  From  that  time,  especially  after  his 
company  went  to  France,  he  threw  himself  with  all 
his  heart  into  the  war. 

Up  in  his  mountain  home,  York  had  learned  to 
be  very  expert  with  rifle  and  pistol.  His  aim  was 
certain,  his  fire  was  rapid,  and,  when  he  pulled 
the  trigger,  it  meant  sure  death.  He  had  won 
many  prizes  shooting  at  turkeys  and  targets. 
Once,  he  stopped  a  fight,  showing  his  skill  to  a 
man  who  was  quarreling  with  him,  by  deliberately 
shooting  the  head  off  a  lizard  running  on  a  tree. 
In  a  contest  with  an  ofiicer,  York,  who  had  become 
a  Sergeant,  hit  a  penny  match-box  at  forty  paces 
every  time. 

He  had  worked  on  a  farm,  and  as  a  blacksmith, 
and  had  developed  a  powerful  body.  He  was  six 
feet  high,  weighed  over  two  hundred  pounds,  and 
had  a  lot  of  red  hair. 

On  October  8,  1918,  the  chance  came  for  Ser- 
geant York  to  show  the  material  of  which  he  was 
made.  His  battalion  was  in  the  Argonne  section, 
in  France.     The  men  left  their  position  on  Hill  223, 


444  AMERICA   FIRST 


in  order  to  attack  the  Decauville  railroad,  nearly 
two  miles  to  the  westward.  The  battalion  had  to 
pass  through  a  valley,  on  both  sides  of  which  were 
hills  from  which  the  German  machine-guns  poured 
a  deadly  fire  into  their  ranks.  In  front  was  an- 
other hill  filled  with  machine-guns.  Thus  the  bat- 
talion was  caught  in  a  fire  from  three  directions. 

York's  platoon  was  on  the  extreme  left.  The 
line  seemed  to  melt  away  before  the  enemy's 
bullets.  The  squad  to  which  York  belonged  was 
ordered  to  put  the  machine-guns  out  of  action. 

The  men  leaped  to  their  task,  and  advanced 
toward  the  hill.  There  were  sixteen  in  all.  Ser- 
geant York  and  the  others  rushed  up  the  steep 
slope,  under  cover  of  bushes,  slipping  behind  trees 
and  hiding  in  the  ditches.  The  enemy's  fire  was 
fierce  and  dangerous.  Fortunately,  the  men  es- 
caped observation,  and  pursued  their  way  back  of 
the  lines. 

They  came  upon  an  old  trench,  formerly  used 
by  the  French,  and  into  it  they  dropped  for  pro- 
tection. It  led  over  the  hill,  and  behind  the  nest 
of  machine-guns.  Single  file,  and  cautiously,  they 
crept  along,  now  in  the  trench  and  now  under  the 
bushes,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  Germans.  At 
last,  they  came  to  a  little  stream  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hill,  and  ran  into  a  party  of  twenty  or  thirty 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN  HISTORY  445 

Germans,  holding  a  conference  and  getting  ready 
to  eat. 

The  Americans  yelled,  and  opened  fire,  as  if  a 
whole  regiment  had  arrived.  The  astonished  Ger- 
mans, not  expecting  an  attack,  and  being  unpre- 
pared, held  up  their  hands,  shouting  **Kamerad," 
in  token  of  their  surrender. 

''Who  are  you.^  Are  you  English  troops?" 
shouted  the  German  Major. 

"No.  We  are  a  force  of  Americans,"  was  the 
reply,  which  seemed  to  bring  no  great  surprise  to 
the  Major. 

Before  arrangements  could  be  made  to  secure 
their  prisoners,  the  machine-guns  opened  fire,  not 
thirty  yards  away.  The  Americans  had  been  dis- 
covered. The  valley  became  a  bedlam  of  shrieking 
sounds,  as  the  rain  of  bullets  whistled  by.  The 
German  prisoners  dropped  to  the  ground,  and 
hugged  the  earth  for  protection  from  the  fire  of 
their  own  guns.  The  Americans  followed  their  ex- 
ample, but  not  before  a  number  of  their  party 
were  killed. 

By  this  time,  the  sixteen  men  had  been  reduced 
to  eight  —  Sergeant  York  and  seven  others.  It 
took  the  whole  seven  to  guard  the  prisoners  who 
were  lying  down,  and  afraid  to  move  for  fear  of 
the  awful  machine-gun  fire  passing  overhead.   York 


446  AMERICA  FIRST 


alone  remained  to  fight  the  enemy.  He  was  lying 
in  a  narrow  path,  leading  toward  the  guns,  the 
prisoners  directly  before  him,  the  gun-fire  barely 
missing  him  where  he  lay.  The  enemy  could  not 
lower  their  fire  without  killing  their  own  men. 
But  York  w^as  as  cool  as  though  he  w^as  at  a 
shooting-match  in  the  mountains.  He  began  pot- 
ting the  Bodies  in  their  fox-holes,  from  behind  the 
trees,  and  under  shelter  of  the  logs.  With  every 
shot,  he  brought  down  an  enemy.  His  fire  was 
deadly. 

"If  I  had  moved,  I  would  have  been  killed. 
The  prisoners  saved  me,  for  the  Boches  had  to 
fire  high  to  keep  from  hitting  their  own  men," 
said  York  afterwards. 

Finally,  a  Lieutenant  and  seven  men  rose  from 
a  machine-gun,  and  charged  down  the  hill  toward 
the  place  where  York  lay.  He  shot  all  eight  of 
them  before  they  ran  half-way.  As  soon  as  the 
Germans  saw  the  Lieutenant  and  his  men  drop, 
the  battle  quieted  down,  for  they  were  amazed  at 
the  way  their  men  were  being  killed,  and  did  not 
know  what  force  was  attacking  them.  They  had 
no  idea  York  was  doing  it  all. 

The  Major  of  the  prisoners  called  out,  "Don't 
shoot  any  more,  and  I'll  make  them  surrender." 
With  that,  York  lowered  his  pistol,  and  the  Major 
raised  his  hands. 


STORIES  OF  OUR  OWN   HISTORY  447 

The  Boches  came  down  the  hill  in  droves.  Their 
arrival  made  a  Hst  of  ninety,  prisoners.  York  and 
the  others  placed  them  in  columns,  and  marched 
off  toward  the  American  lines. 

"How  many  men  have  you  in  your  command.^" 
asked  the  Major.  '*I  have  plenty  to  hold  you 
prisoners,"  answered  York.  ''Drop  your  guns  and 
equipment  and  move  on."  The  Germans  obeyed 
promptly. 

On  the  way  back,  they  ran  into  other  machine- 
gun  nests.  Using  their  prisoners  as  screens,  the 
Americans  made  the  Major  demand  the  surrender 
of  them  as  fast  as  they  were  discovered,  under 
penalty  of  having  his  men  shot  by  their  own. 
machine-guns.     It  soon  became  a  procession. 

In  this  way,  York  and  his  few  companions  added 
to  their  list  as  they  went  along,  until,  when  they 
arrived  at  their  destination,  and  turned  over  their 
prisoners,  they  had  one  hundred  and  thirty-tw^o! 
The  Major  was  the  gloomiest  man  in  Europe  when 
he  found  out  that  he  had  surrendered  to  a  handful 
of  Americans.  York  himself  had  killed  twenty 
men  with  his  own  pistol,  and  thirty -five  machine- 
guns  had  been  put  out  of  action! 


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